Black Pawn, White Pawn
by Sethoz
Summary: AU. What if when Gray and M were escaping from Venice they took some insurance in the form of Tom Sawyer? Can the league save him and stop M in time? -Part 8.- -FIN-
1. Betrayed

Disclaimer: This is my first try at a LXG fic. I felt that we need more on this site. It is an AU... well, more of an 'What if?' story. What if Sawyer had been captured? Would the plot be different? This is my attempt at answering that question. It's set between Venice and the attack on M's base. It's more than one part long, this is only the prolog.  
  
Parts of this chapter (And maybe, possibly other's) have been lifted directly from the movie, but there are many subtle changes.  
  
I don't own the actors the movie, the comic (Though I wouldn't mind owning a copy). All I own is this attempt at a story.  
  
Please, please read this!  
  
~~~  
  
Black Pawn, White Pawn.  
  
~~~  
  
Prolog:- Betrayed.  
  
"The Astrolabe and the Zelee, incessantly tossed about by the hurricane, could not be worth the Nautilus, quiet repository of labor that she is, truly motionless in the midst of the waters."   
  
~ Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea. Part 1. Chapter 21 .   
~ By Jules Verne.  
  
Dorian Gray lounged by the pod, idly twirling his stick.  
  
"Ah M." he purred as the other came running up. "At last. Ready to go?" he turned and pressed a button, opening up the Pod. M paused and looked back the way he came.  
  
"No." he hissed. Dorian looked mildly confused.  
  
"No what?" he asked. M turned back to him a hungry look in his eyes and Dorian took a step backwards. M gave a grunt of pain and pulled out the sword from his shoulder. The rage was burning all too brightly in his eyes.  
  
"I'm not ready to leave. I want one more thing from this ship before we go..."  
  
~~~  
  
The League - minus Skinner and Gray - were currently standing outside of the Nautilus.   
  
"We did it." Allan said with a smile. "We stopped M." There was a gasp behind him and out of the Nautilus staggered Nemo's first mate, Ishmael. He held out a shaky hand to Nemo.  
  
"It was Gray..." he whispered, sinking to his knees, Dr. Jekyll grabbing him as he fell, Nemo standing by Ishmael's side.  
  
"Save your strength old friend." Nemo said. Tom Sawyer fingered his weapons, his anger building. They had been betrayed, betrayed by someone they thought they could trust. He spun on his heel and ran up the slope to the inside of the Nautilus, determined to find Gray before it was too late.  
  
"Not Skinner..." Ishmael said, his fingers searching thin air blindly for Nemo's face. Nemo caught Ishmael's hand in his own and the injured man turned his fading gaze onto his captain and friend's face.   
  
"It was Gray, he tricked us all..." The light faded forever from his eyes and with a tiny gasp he died.   
  
Captain Nemo looked away and tightened his grip on his sword. Suddenly a low creaking sound was heard.  
  
"What was that?" Quartermain asked in alarm.  
  
"The sound of betrayal!" roared Nemo rushing inside the Nautilus, the rest close behind him.   
  
~~~  
  
The four League members stood and stared as Dorian Gray kissed them all goodbye before leaving in the exploration pod. The next hour or so passed in a blur as they listened to the recording left to them by M and Gray, then working hard to prevent them for sinking. It was only after they had surfaced that Mina looked around the room and realized something, that no-one else seemed to have noticed.  
  
"Where's Sawyer?" she asked. The rest looked round.  
  
"I haven't seen him since Ishmael was killed." Quartermain said. Nemo sent out sailors to look all over the ship for him. No-one on the whole ship had seen him and no-one on the whole ship knew where he was.  
  
"We found this Sir, near the where the exploration pod used to be." One of Nemo's sailors said. He held up Tom Sawyer's main gun.  
  
"What does this mean?" Mina asked.  
  
"Sir! We'll getting a signal!" another sailor yelled, interrupting the League. He ran back to the radio, Nemo close behind.  
  
"Well?" Nemo demanded.  
  
"It's Morse code." Quartermain said.   
  
"What does it say?"  
  
"Hello, my freaky darlings." the sailor said in surprise. Dr. Jekyll smiled with relief.  
  
"Skinner." he breathed.  
  
"Am on board little fish with M and Gray. Sawyer here too. He's alive but in bad way. Heading East by East, follow my lead." The sailor finished. There was a short, stunned silence then Allan bared his teeth in a snarl.  
  
"Let's get this repaired so we can go after them and get Sawyer out." he said sharply, storming out of the room and away. The rest hurried after him - all except Mina. She turned and stared out of the window into the sea.  
  
"Oh Dorian. What have you done?" she whispered, twisting the end of her scarf tightly in her fingers and she bowed her head.  
  
~~~  
  
In the Exploration Pod, Dorian was watching M, from his chair. M was currently sitting in his own chair, watching the still form of Tom Sawyer with the same hungry, vengeful look on his face that he had, had on before.  
  
"Why did you want him out of all the League?" Dorian asked. M's eyes never left Tom's body.  
  
"Simple. If by an improbable chance even one of the League has survived they will all be so worried about saving the boy that they will focus all of their energy on saving him."  
  
"You think the League will survive?"  
  
"No." M said with a snarl. "But even so, I shall delight in proving Quartermain wrong. So that old coot thinks he can get the better of me, does he? Well, let's see what happens when I destroy his little American friend." M held up the sword that he had pulled from his shoulder and threw it towards the back of the pod.  
  
"He wanted to make this boy like his son. All I shall be doing is taking it one step further and killing Sawyer." he laughed, long and hard. Dorian involuntary shuddered and turned back to the control's plotting the course. M bent down so that his mouth was right by Tom's ear.  
  
"No-one makes a fool of me... not even a dead Quartermain." he hissed then slammed his boot into Tom's unprotected stomach. Sawyer let out a groan of pain before sinking back into the land of darkness. M pressed his hand to his shoulder then rubbed his fingers together. The bright red blood was rubbed all down the three fingers he was using.  
  
"No-one..." he repeated savagely.  
  
TBC...  
  
There you have have it! My first chapter done! I'm sorry that is jumps around a bit, it was just to set this first chapter up.   
  
Please, please leave a review and tell me what you think. Was it any good? Does anyone want the rest of the story?  
  
Oh yeah, does anyone know where Skinner is from? I've heard of all the other's (And read the books they come from.) but I've never heard of Skinner. Please, please someone help me. Either leave it in a review or E-mail me. Please!  
  
Thank you for reading!  
  
~Sethoz 


	2. Undercurrents

Disclaimer: wow, what a load of lovely reviews *blushes* Thank you all so much, here's the next part, I hope you all enjoy it.  
  
Just a small side note, I don't know how long it took for the League to reach M's base. (I don't think it ever said.) So I'm making it quite a few days, after all M's wound healed before he fought again. ;)   
  
Not much Tom owies yet, but his time will come. *evil laugh* I don't own LXG, Tom Sawyer, Allan Quatermain, Mina Hawker, Skinner, Captain Nemo, Dorian Gray, Dr. Jekyll, Mr. Hyde, M or anything else used in the fic.  
  
Please read then review.  
  
Black Pawn, White Pawn.  
  
~~~  
  
Part 1:- Undercurrents.  
  
~~~  
  
"I will tell you one thing: the moment I choose, I can be rid of Mr. Hyde. I give you my hand upon that; and I thank you again and again; and I will just add one little word, Utterson, that I'm sure you'll take in good part: this is a private matter, and I beg of you to let it sleep?"  
  
~The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Chapter 3.  
~By Robert Louis Stevenson.  
  
Dr. Jekyll sat on the chair, flicking his watch open and shut, his nervous fingers scuttling over the gold cover. He shook his head slightly, refusing to look into any reflected surface. In the end though, he risked a quick, flashing look into a window, Mr. Hyde looking back at him.  
  
"Don't be like that Edward, you have no proof." he pleaded. Behind him, Allan Quartermain entered, his footsteps too light to be heard by the preoccupied Doctor. Jekyll shook his head more violently, disagreeing with whatever Edward Hyde was saying. Dr. Jekyll slammed his watch shut again, this time without flicking it back open. The Doctor stood up and turned, right into Quartermain.  
  
"Mr. Quartermain..." he stuttered. "You surprised me." Allan nodded and stepped to the side, letting Jekyll move past him. As he reached the door, Allan Quartermain stopped him with a single question.  
  
"What does Mr. Hyde think about all of this?" Dr. Jekyll froze and carefully placed his watch back into his jacket pocket. He took a deep breath, beads of sweat gathering on his face.  
  
"... He thinks Agent Sawyer betrayed us." he explained. What ever Allan had been expecting, this was not it. He felt the blood rush to his head, the pounding in his ears making it impossible to hear. After a few seconds the pounding lessened and he was able to think again.  
  
"What?" he croaked, unable to put a coherent sentence together. Dr. Jekyll was giving him a worried look.  
  
"He thinks that it is possible that Mr. Gray and Mr. Sawyer were working together. After all what do we know of Sawyer?"  
  
"Skinner said he was in a bad way." Quartermain said gruffly, sitting down in one of the empty chairs. Dr. Jekyll looked away, then seemed to garter courage from somewhere and looked back. He nervously tried to tidy his hair with his hands.  
  
"Skinner didn't specify what he meant." Jekyll said gently. "It's possible that what he meant 'bad way' as in injured, yet on Gray's side or that 'bad' meant betrayed."  
  
"Don't be so absurd." snarled Quartermain. Jekyll's face went a deep red color.  
  
"Your affection for the boy blinds you to the possibility that he's not on our side!" he yelled. Quartermain stood up, his gun slamming to the table top in a loud crash.  
  
"Silence!" he roared. Jekyll stopped, just as shocked by his own out burst as Quartermain was. "What do you think?" he asked.   
  
"I... I don't know. I don't want to believe it... but why would M kidnap Tom Sawyer out of all of us?"  
  
"Maybe because young Mr. Sawyer as the only one of us inside the Nautilus at the time?" a female voice said behind them. Mina Hawker stood there, a hand on her neck, as if to protect it. "I noticed that he charged inside before any of us." Quartermain turned away again and sat back down, suddenly looking very old and tired.  
  
"There you have it. Is Mr. Hyde satisfied? Are we still to try and save Sawyer?" he asked, his voice sounding weary. Jekyll glanced from Mina to Quartermain then back again.  
  
"Mr. Hyde is never satisfied... but he will help save Sawyer." with that Jekyll bowed to Mina, then walked out of the room. For a few minutes there was quiet in the room as Quartermain stared at the table, seeming to have no energy to do anything else. Mina just stood there, not watching Quartermain but keeping an eye on him. Finally she broke the silence that had descended on them.  
  
"You must not blame Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde for their uncertainty." she said softly. She glided forward and placed a conforming hand on the older man's shoulder. "We are afraid, all jumpy. The double blow of being betrayed by Gray and M, topped with the guilt that we blamed Skinner for it all, makes us all confused and jumpy. Can you blame Hyde for double guessing everything that has happened? We have to put this behind us, if we are to focus and work as one. There can be no doubt, no double guessing." she finished. In answer Quartermain reached inside his inner jacket pocket and pulled out a number of spent shell casings.  
  
"These were found near Sawyer's gun. All of these..." he gestured to seven of the shell casings. "Belong to the gun we found. This one however." he held up the last one, it's color slightly different to the other's.  
  
"This one was not fired by Sawyer's gun. Not only that, but a bullet that did not fire from any of Sawyer's gun was found." He held up a silver bullet, a faint brownish stain on it.   
  
"Do you smell anything odd on it?" he asked, with a slightly twisted smile. Mina leaned forward and sniffed it with a puzzled expression. That faded to be replaced by horror, which was in turn, replaced by understanding.  
  
"Blood." she said. Allan nodded, his eyes asking a question. Mina frowned, her mind traveling back. She had reached up and placed her finger on the cut Tom had gotten. There had been blood left on her fingers. Almost without thinking she had sniffed it, letting the tangy sent fill her nostrils.   
  
"I can not tell if is Sawyer's blood. It certainly could be..."  
  
"Guess." Allan pleaded. Mina leaned forward again and sniffed deeply. She shook her head in defeat.  
  
"The stain is far too faint. It could be... I think it most probably is, if the bullet does not belong to any of his guns."  
  
"You know what that means?" Allan Quartermain warned. Mina nodded, her eyes dark and foreboding.   
  
"It means that young Mr. Sawyer was injured. Therefor he can not have left here of his own free will." Mina said. "Why did you not share this Mr. Quartermain?" she challenged.  
  
"I'm not sure. I suppose I didn't want to believe it... it's hard to imagine anything stopping that boy."  
  
"He would not enjoy being called a boy." Mina said, a hint of a smile on her normally somber features.  
  
"That's what he is though, when all's said and done. That what he is." Allan said. Mina lowered her eyes and turned away.  
  
"I'll leave you in peace Mr. Quartermain. Try not to brood." she said, knowing that now was a time that Allan needed to be alone. She had not doubt that he would indeed brood, as would she.  
  
Her brooding would involve not only Tom Sawyer but Dorian Gray as well. But she had no time for brooding now, there were patients that needed seeing too and work that needed doing. There would be time for weakness later, time for regrets and fear.  
  
Now was not that time.  
  
~~~  
  
Captain Nemo seemed to be everywhere at once. He might be working with his men in the engine room one minute, then, a few minutes later he might be in his cabin, pouring over blueprints to the Nautilus. A few minutes later he would be in yet a different part, doing a different job.  
  
He matched into the conference room, a rolled up map under his arm. Allan Quartermain was still in the same position as he had been when Mina had left him, over two hours before. He looked up as the Indian entered the room, all traces of his worry smoothed from his face.  
  
"Yes Captain?"  
  
"We should be ready to move again in a few days." Nemo said, rolling out the map on the table. "The tracking system is up and running. Putting that with the coordinates Skinner sent us I believe I know where M will be."  
  
"Good." Allan said, her gaze on the map, but his mind was not on it, it was far away, resting on a simple cross, a simple grave in Africa. Nemo bowed then walked back out of the room, leaving the map on the table.  
  
~~~  
  
Dorian surveyed M's base with something close to horror on his face. He glanced back to where M was stomping though the snow, one of his men following, the same man who had met them as they surfaced.  
  
Attached to the man was a rope. Attached to the rope was Tom Sawyer. As the young American had yet to regain conciseness, he was simply being dragged through the snow by his feet, his arms trailing behind, leaving a clear, sharp line of blood in its wake. Dorian turned back to the base, the horror still visible on his face.   
  
"Something bothering you?" M's voice asked him. Dorian raised a delicately sculpted eyebrow.  
  
"This is your base?" he asked reaching in his pocket and pulling out a handkerchief. "Rather drab isn't it?"  
  
"Why should the wolf care what his home looks like as long as it has what he needs?" M answered before walking ahead. Dorian froze a faint smile lingering on his face.  
  
"Growl." he mummured. "Wolves are dangerous, M, you should know that." he whispered. If Dorian had his way, he would never have been involved in the League or M's plans. But fate - or rather a burglar - had stepped in and changed the course of Dorian's life.  
  
If he had one weakness, it was his painting.  
  
A weakness that M had exploited with calculated ruthless. Dorian stood at the top of the hill, watching the other man as he scrambled down the hill. The faint smile on his face increased as he saw Sawyer's head being banged on loose rocks as he was dragged down the hill. It seemed M didn't really care what happened to Sawyer as long as he was still in one piece by the time they reached the inside of the base.  
  
"Pity... I rather liked the boy. He... amused me, in more ways than one. Fancy imaging he really had a chance with the Vampiress." Dorian said to no one. He sighed dramatically and moved down the hill after the retreating figures.  
  
"Oh well, such is life... for other people."  
  
If he had looked behind him, he would have seen the impression of footprints in the snow, if he had listened he would have heard the soft cracking as snow was pressed by an invisible foot. Skinner reached the top of the hill and looked down, his expression - if it had been visible - was much the same as Dorian's had been. He gave a wince of sympathy as Tom's head was banged by a partially large rock, before going down the hill, shivering as he did so.  
  
~~~  
  
M entered his private quarters, Sawyer still being dragged after him by the other man.  
  
"Lee, just leave him over there. Make sure he's secure." M rasped, without bothering to turn round to see if his order was being carried out. He climbed the stairs and moved to where his mirror and wash bowl were. His eyes darkened and became hard as he stared at the wound Quartermain had give him.  
  
"Bring me that picture!" he yelled, his fingers clenched against the palms of his hands. They were held so tight that he could feel the blood seeping out. Behind him a man hurried in, a painting in a large wooden frame in front of him. M turned, his eyes on fire.  
  
"Leave it over there." he said, picking up a discarded sword.   
  
The painting had clearly been attacked many times with a sword and in one case a gun. It had also been repaired just as many times and in some cases, parts of it had been repainted. It depicted a tall, lean man sitting on a hard wooden chair, his intelligent eyes boring into who ever was looking at it. The eyes seemed to follow the viewer around the room. The man sitting in the chair was wearing a deerstalker hat, a wooden pipe between his lips. His nose was long and crooked, his fingers long and pale.  
  
M held the sword tightly in both hands, his bright eyes fixed hatefully on the picture. Spit began to form in his mouth, the taste of anger. It built up inside of him, erupting in a loud, animal like scream as he slashed downwards, cutting the painting right down the middle. He slashed at it again and again, tearing at it.   
  
The expression on the painting did not change which seemed to infuriate M even more. The sword fell from his tired fingers, but still M did not stop his mad attack, clawing at the painting with his hands, scratching at it, until, finally, he stopped, his laden arms simply too tired to attack the picture any longer.  
  
The spittle in his mouth remained, a reminder of hate towards this man. M spat, the saliva flying out of his mouth and hitting the painting in the middle. M wiped his mouth with the side of his hand and stared in disgust at what remained of the once proud painting.  
  
It was a pitiful sight.  
  
The painting had been attacked so much and with such force that it was almost impossible to tell what it had originally been of. Strips of it lay on the floor, other parts hanging on to the painting by a mere thread. M felt his lips curl upwards as he looked at the damage. He wiped his hands together, trying in vain to wipe away the paint stains that had embedded themselves under his nails.  
  
He moved back to his wash bowl and began to scrub his hands. Lee entered the room and stood rigidly to attention. M casually wiped his hands on a towel, all traces of his anger gone.  
  
"Get it repaired."  
  
"I... I don't think it can be..." Lee stuttered. The anger erupted from M as he grabbed Lee by the front of his sheet.  
  
"They get me a painter who can repaint the whole thing!" he screamed, throwing Lee towards the door. Lee scrambled to his feet and rushed out. At the door frame he stopped and faced M, cowering.  
  
"I-it may take a day or two..." he said, expecting another outburst. The silence in the room was so heavy it could be cut with a knife. Then, surprisingly, M laughed. Lee watched, unable to look away, inwardly wondering if his master had cracked. But then, M, was well known in the base for his sudden mood swings, a trait that made him all the more dangerous to work for.  
  
"Not to worry... I have a substitute to use until it's repainted." M said, his gaze resting on the slightly moving form of Tom Sawyer. Lee gulped then fled the room, M's deranged laughter ringing in his ears...  
  
TBC...  
  
There you have it! Thank you to everyone who answered my question about Skinner, I've read the Invisible Man now and he most definitely isn't in the book. (Unless he was once a pub landlord.) Still, thank you for telling me where he did come from.  
  
Please leave a review.   
  
~Sethoz 


	3. The Mouth of Hell

Disclaimer: Here we have it, the next part! Thank you for everyone who reviewed the last part, hope this part is just as good.   
  
I don't own LXG, Tom Sawyer, Allan Quatermain, Mina Hawker, Skinner, Captain Nemo, Dorian Gray, Dr. Jekyll, Mr. Hyde, M or anything else used in the fic.  
  
Some Tom owies this time. *sniff* poor him... hope you all enjoy this part.  
  
Please, please read then leave a review.  
  
Black Pawn, White Pawn.  
  
~~~  
  
Part 2:- The Mouth of Hell.  
  
~~~  
  
"At his remark I drew the weapon out and laid it cocked upon the table. He still smiled and blinked, but there was something about his eyes which made me glad that I had it there."   
  
~Sherlock Holmes. The Adventure of the Final Problem.  
~ By Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.  
  
1899. Venice...   
  
Tom Sawyer ran though the inside of the Nautilus, his mind alert for any sound that may tell him where his pray lurked. Gray had to still be on the Nautilus, if the state of Ishmael was anything to go by. He had been shot very recently. Tom gritted his teeth together, the image of Ishmael's wounds still burned into his mind.  
  
True, he didn't really know the man, in fact he had barely exchanged two words with him. It was the betrayal that got to him, the fact that Ishmael must have trusted Gray, must have looked at him with trust in his eyes, without a sign of fear, because of course, there was no need to be afraid of Gray, he was on their side.   
  
Tom fingered his two pistols, enjoying the cool feel of the metal. He moved closer and closer to Gray's room, his breathing slowing. The door was slightly ajar, blackness spilling out of it onto the brightly lit corridor. He took a deep, slow breath before turning around and kicking the door open. His brought his pistols up and scanned room with narrow eyes.  
  
The room was empty.  
  
Tom slipped back out of the room and moved down the corridor and around the corner, heading for his own room. His American modified Winchester was there, a weapon that he preferred. Not only that but it made a louder noise than his other guns, meaning - in theory - that if he got into any trouble someone would hear it. As he pulled his rifle from his trunk, the image of Ishmael pushed its way back into his head.  
  
Suddenly he froze, a thought flashing into his head.  
  
//Why did Gray shoot him in the first place?\\ Tom shook his head and moved back into the corridor, his two pistols tucked under his jacket, his main weapon held tightly in his hands. His mind began to follow that train of thought and without even realizing it, he began to talk out loud, in a low mutter.  
  
"Gray must have wanted something... something Ishmael had... no, that doesn't make sense." he said, rounding a corner. A quick glance showed it to be as empty as the last one and he walked along it, his mind still following the same train of thought.  
  
"What if Ishmael was in Gray's way. That has to be it. Gray wanted something, Ishmael was between him and it... but... it couldn't have been anything from his room... Ishmeal wouldn't have been near his room." A sound caught his attention, something being dropped some distance away. He inched forward, his mind blank, his nerves taunt.   
  
Sidestepping the corner, he raised his rifle and was confronted by darkness. He slowly lowered his weapon, a faint frown on his face before walking forward, his mind returning to the pervious problem.  
  
"If Gray shoot Ishmeal, then Gray must have wanted to..." a sudden cold fear struck him and held him tightly in his cold grasp. "What if he did something to the engines?" He moved boldly forward, heading for the engine room when a low, metallic sound stopped him. The sound of a sword being pulled from its sheath.  
  
Before he could think or make a sound the sword appeared in front of his neck, his attacker standing behind him.  
  
"Now, now, we don't want the party starting too soon, now do we? You go and search the engine room and you might find the surprise present." the smooth voice said. Tom shifted his rifle slightly and swallowed harshly. The voice belong to none other than Dorian Gray.  
  
Which left Tom at the mercy of his enemy.  
  
"Now, look what I've found myself." Purred Gray in Tom's ear. "My very own American." He brought the tip of the sword a millimeter closer to Tom's exposed neck, a cruel smile on his face. Tom moved his weight slight, oh so slightly and slowly slipped his hand towards one of his pistols. Dorian Gray carried on talking, unaware of the weapon that was moving. Tom pointed the gun straight down, right at one of the other man's foot.  
  
"Now, what am I going to do with you?" Dorian asked.   
  
"Let me go?" Tom asked blandly. Dorian laughed, a laugh that sent a chill down Tom's neck.   
  
"I don't think so." he answered. Tom pulled the trigger on his pistol, the bullet shooting out of it and into Dorian's foot.  
  
The immortal let out a little yelp of surprise as the bullet entered him and without thinking about it, moved the sword slightly away from the younger man's neck. It was all the help Tom needed.  
  
He ducked under the sword, swinging round, his rifle already firing at Gray. The other smiled, a bored smile.  
  
"Is there going to be a point to this?" he asked with a lazy smile. Tom gave a snarl and threw his rifle at him, pulling out his two pistols and firing them both.   
  
From around the corner a small, silver gun appeared, aimed at Sawyer's back. Neither Dorian Gray or Tom Sawyer noticed it however, as both were caught up in the fight. Tom had begun to use his pistols as swords, blocking every attack Gray used on him.   
  
Finally with a roar of anger Tom swung his pistols round, knocking the sword out of Gray's grasp. He bent down, picking up the sword from the ground. Dorian sighed and tightened his jacket.  
  
"What are you going to do now? I'm impervious to harm."  
  
"I know that. I know if I stab you, you'll just heal. But let me ask you this. Can you grow back your head?" Sawyer asked, a crazed smile on his face, panting heavily. Dorian's eyes widened slightly at the comment. Before Tom could carry out his threat the silver gun shifted it's position and fired twice, in rapid succession.   
  
The first bullet, missed Tom by pure accident. It whizzed past him, cutting across Dorian's face, leaving a small graze on it, that healed at once.   
  
The second bullet found it's mark. It embedded it's self in his right shoulder, causing him to cry out in pain and drop the sword from his suddenly limp grasp. Dorian picked up the dropped rifle and spun it round so he was holding it by the barrel end.  
  
Using the butt end he smashed it into the back of the Secret Service Agent's head , making him fall forwards. By the time Tom Sawyer hit the floor he was already out cold.   
  
M walked up to the fallen Agent, a frown on his face.   
  
"That took too long." he hissed. "The others may have already started to search for him or even us. Pick him up and let's get going."  
  
"I'm not some luggage boy." Dorian said, his lip twisting upwards. M glared at him, a fire burning in his eyes.  
  
"The League for your painting. That was our agreement. He is part of the League." M snapped before turning and walking down the corridor, towards the exploration pod. Dorian groaned.  
  
"The things I do for Immortality." he sighed, staring down at the prone body. Under Tom's eyelids, the green eyes moved restlessly, caught in a feverish nightmare.  
  
~~~  
  
A few days later, Mongolia...  
  
The green eyes opened slowly, blinking against the harsh light that hit them. All they could see was a wooden floor. The boy blinked again, trying to clear the fog from both his eyes and mind. The cobwebs in his head refused to move.  
  
On the other side of the room, M sat, his leg crossed, a perfect image of a relaxing gentleman. He could afford to wait, it would make the end result all the more worth while.  
  
Tom bit back a groan, his eyes still unfocused. His right shoulder hurt like hell, an invisible fire seemed to be spreading over it. He moved his hand to reach his shoulder - or at least, he tried too. He gave a small gasp of pain as he realized his hands were tied together.  
  
//What the hell happened to me?\\ he thought, his mind still fuzzy, the events of before still a blur to him.  
  
"Ah, you're starting to wake up. I was worried that the drugs I had put in your system would keep you under for too long and therefore; you would miss the party - but you're just in time." M said, uncrossing his legs and moving towards his helpless captive. Tom frowned slightly, wishing the pounding in his head would stop. He squinted at his arms, vaguely making out the shape of metal handcuffs on them as he tried to decipher what the other had said.  
  
"...drugged...?" he whispered, his mouth refusing to work as it should. Out of a whole two sentences, asking who the other person was and why he was drugged, only the word 'drugged' came out.  
  
M smiled, a kind, gentle smile.  
  
"Yes." he said clearly. He bent down and stared at the confused boy, a small frown appearing on his face. "You don't look awake yet." he muttered, his hand reaching out for a metal chain that was hanging by the side of Tom Sawyer.  
  
With one brutal tug, he pulled on the chain. The other end was attached to the handcuffs around Sawyer's hands. They went flying upwards, dragging him with them. He gave an agonized scream as his right shoulder moved stiffly upwards, the dull fire pain braking out and shooting over him.  
  
He gasped for breath, struggling to stay awake. M idly examined his fingernails before turning around and picking up a small sliver object from a nearby table.  
  
"Oh my." he said in mock surprise. "You seem to have a bullet imbedded in your shoulder. Let me get it out for you." His voice dripped with fake sympathy. The metal object flashed in the light as Tom stared at it, willing his mind to work. It was some sort of prong style object. The metal flashed again in the light before diving down on to the open flesh.   
  
M attacked the wound recklessly. There was no care taken, no anesthetic to dull the pain, no speed to make it finish as soon as possible. Tom had stopped screaming after the first five minutes, his voice worn away.   
  
About half-way through the procedure M paused and looked into the face of his captive.  
  
"Would you like the pain to stop?" he asked. Tom raised his head slowly, the pain making it heavy. He stared at the other man and slightly nodded his head.  
  
"Just tell me - is it possible that the League could have survived?" M asked. Tom closed his eyes, trying to work out what M was talking about.   
  
//The League could be dead? How?\\ Even as he thought that, he knew what answer he would give. //If he thinks they are dead, then it gives them an advantage.\\   
  
Tom knew he would pay dearly for what he was about to do, but if there was one thing he wasn't lacking in, it was courage. He took a deep breath, ignoring the pain that seared though him at the simple act. If only his head wasn't so foggy. He opened his mouth and tried to say something.   
  
M leaned closer, in an effort to hear what the boy was trying to say. This was all that Sawyer needed. He tasted the saliva in his mouth, then spat. The liquid flew threw the air and hit M right in the face. He scowled and backed away, before carrying on with taking the bullet out, this time taking even less care with it, not even caring if his instrument cut open new wounds.   
  
The silver bullet finally came away and was dropped into M's hand. He stared at the small metal object, flaked with Tom's blood, then turned back to his victim. He hung from his chains, passed out.   
  
~~~  
  
Skinner was lost. There was no other way to put it. He had been wandering the corridors of M's base for what seemed like days. He was starting to despair when he heard a blood curdling scream. It made his blood run cold and his hair stand on edge.  
  
He knew that voice, even if it was just a primal scream.  
  
The scream belonged to Tom Sawyer. Skinner sped up, running towards the origin of the sound. The scream came again and again, until it finally died. In a way it was worst, at least the screams told him that the American was still alive. This silence on the other hand was dangerous.  
  
He reached a gold door, slightly ajar. Slipping in he was faced by more gold. In any other situation this would have caused Skinner's heart to beat widely and a smile to settle on his invisible features.   
  
Not this time.  
  
This time his attention was taken up by the body hanging from some chains. He slipped forward and peered at face then at the exposed shoulder. He cursed softly.  
  
"Jesus Kid! What did they do to you." he asked.  
  
"...Skinner...?" a voice whispered. Green cloudy eyes were open and looking in his direction. "...Are you here?... I need you to... blueprints..." The green eyes closed again, leaving Skinner with a dilemma. He wanted to help Tom, but how could he until he had somewhere to take him. The only way he could help Tom was by knowing the layout of this place by heart.  
  
"I'll be back." he promised Sawyer, even though he knew there was no way the boy would have been able to hear him.   
  
It was only later that he realized Tom didn't normally have green cloudy eyes. His eyes were normally clear. Skinner wasn't a doctor but for some reason he had a feeling that something was wrong.   
  
Now if only he could figure out what, before it was too late.  
  
TBC...  
  
Please, please, now that you've read it leave a review.  
  
Till next time!  
  
~Sethoz 


	4. You Are Forsaken

Disclaimer: I'm with everyone who wants M to die a nasty death - the movie death is too good for him. But if he really dies or not... well, you'll just have to wait! It's not really up to me, it's up to my muse...   
  
I don't own LXG, Tom Sawyer, Allan Quatermain, Mina Hawker, Skinner, Captain Nemo, Dorian Gray, Dr. Jekyll, Mr. Hyde, M or anything else used in the fic. (It's starting to bug me, having to put a disclaimer every time. Oh well.)  
  
Roz, of course I remember you! You wrote that truly amazing 'Windmills of your mind' (Hint: Go read. Full of Obi-Wan angst.) It wasn't rubbish. ;) But you haven't written anything new in a while... *pouts*  
  
Thank you so much to everyone who left a review for the last part, I hope you all enjoy this one!  
  
Please read, then review. And now... on with this part!  
  
Black Pawn, White Pawn  
  
~~~  
  
Part 3:- "You Are Forsaken."  
  
~~~  
  
"Madam Mina still sleep and sleep. And though I did have hunger and appeased it, I could not waken her, even for food. I began to fear that the fatal spell of the place was upon her, tainted as she is with that Vampire baptism."  
  
~Dracula. Chapter 27.  
~ By Bram Stoker  
  
Mina moved though the base in her bat form. She moved with a single purpose; to find Agent Tom Sawyer... before it was too late. Ahead of her were two gold doors, signifying the entrance to M's inner rooms.  
  
With a hiss she changed back into her human form, walking towards the doors and pushing them open. Instantly her nose was hit with the over powering, intoxicating sent of fresh blood. Mina staggered backwards, fighting to keep control over her lesser nature. It was hard. It was so very hard.  
  
She stepped into the room, her eyes searching for the person she knew would be inside. Tom Sawyer hung from his chains, a pool of blood around his feet. Mina felt herself slipping, loosing control of herself.  
  
Without even being aware of it she ran forward, her eyes changing, her whole body crying out for the fresh blood she could smell. She reached the body and bit down, hard, no pause in her movements. Mina drank deeply, her mind not even registering the faint struggles or the spasms the body gave. It was only when she had drained the body dry that she became aware of herself at all.   
  
She licked her lips. The blood had been so invigorating, young and warm with adrenaline running though it. The blood lust slowly faded from her eyes, the red veil lifting. She stared down at the corpse of Tom with horror on her face. The blood was still moving through her, so warm...  
  
Oh Gods, it had been so warm...  
  
"He had been alive when I drained him." Mina said out loud, backing away from the body, Tom's blood making her feel tingly all over as if someone was lightly pricking her with tiny pin ends.  
  
"Hello Lover." a cool, amused voice said behind her. Dorian Gray stood there, his stick resting on the ground. Mina bared her teeth in a growl, moving to stand between Gray and the cooling body of Tom.  
  
"Bit late for that isn't it?" he said, nodding his head at the dead body. "My, what will Mr. Quartermain say?" he asked, a mocking smile gracing his lips. "He will not be happy." Mina stood there, breathing heavily. She wanted to attack him, hurt him, kill him but some inner force was holding her in place. When she did finally move towards him it was not to attack him in quite that way.  
  
Her lips caught his in a violent kiss.  
  
She pushed him back, taking the aggressive route, all her fibers screaming at her to take him, right there and right now. The bed was getting closer and closer, his hands on her top, her hands fumbling with his buttons.  
  
//It's the fresh blood.\\ she thought vaguely, her mind far away. It came back with a crash as she realized the 'fresh blood' was in fact Tom's life force. Dorian looked at her, sensing her sudden reluctance.  
  
"It's not the past that matters now. It's the moment. This moment." He locked eyes with her for another long moment then kissed her, gently at first, but then increasing in passion as she returned the kiss. Mina closed her eyes and lost herself in his embrace. The guilt she felt at the death of Tom Sawyer was rapidly fading.   
  
He was only a mortal after all.  
  
What did he matter to her? He was food, nothing else.  
  
~~~  
  
Mina's eyes snapped open, her eyes darting around the darkened room. Faint shadows jumped out at her, looming out of the darkness towards her. She slipped out from under the covers and moved blindly forward, her arms reaching out in the hope of finding a lamp.   
  
Her knee banging into a table, making her give a muffled groan. Her hands groped out, catching a lamp just before it fell. Shaking slightly she lit it, the rays casting a warm glow over the whole room.  
  
She turned, scanning the room. It was her own room on board the Nautilus, she wasn't near Gray, she had not drained Sawyer. It was all just a dream. She repeated the last sentence over and over again, trying to ignore the gut feeling in the pit of her stomach.  
  
When she had drained the dream Sawyer, it had felt so good.  
  
How could she trust herself when they found him now? She moved back to the bed and tried to sleep again, ignoring the little voice in her head that urged her to drink from him when he was found.  
  
She would not betray the trust he had in her. She would not. She would not. She wouldn't. She couldn't. Would she?   
  
But the memory of that all encompassing warmth, the energy she had gained, the sweet taste of his blood refused to leave her.  
  
Mina didn't sleep again that night.  
  
~~~  
  
M wandered into his sitting room, where Tom was kept. He walked over to the boy and grabbed him by the face, lifting it up so he could see it the light. Frowning the man peeled back one of Tom's eyelids and peered into his eyes. M let go of the face and the head dropped limply down. The boy was still most definitely out cold. He should have rejoined the land of the living hours ago.   
  
It was no fun having a captive to do what he liked to if the captive refused to wake up.  
  
Half a Hour later...  
  
Moriarty's private doctor lifted Tom Sawyer's arm, feeling for his pulse. He checked the young man's heart, his shoulder, his head. After roughly ten minutes spent examining him, the doctor backed away with a soft sigh.  
  
"Well?" M asked. The doctor looked at his patient, barely mangling to keep the disgust he felt at seeing the man from appearing on his face. In his own mind, the doctor didn't even call him a man. But he had no choice, just like the scientists in the lower levels he knew he had no choice.  
  
He had a wife and a child to think about. He tried to blank from his mind that this young man looked so much like an older version of his own son.  
  
"His shoulder is infected, he is running a fever and though I can't be sure, I think due to the head injury he probably has a concussion." The doctor bent down and pulled two bottles from his bag.  
  
"What are you doing?" Hissed M. The doctor looked surprised.  
  
"I'm going to treat him. Isn't that what you want me to do? This bottle will bring down his fever in theory and this other bottle should help with his concussion."  
  
"Just treat his fever. Leave the concussion." M said. "Also, wake him up."  
  
"Ye-yes Sir." The Doctor spluttered, placing the second bottle back into his back. He turned away from it and focused on his new patent. M moved closer as well, his gaze boring into the doctors. Neither of them saw the bag open of it's own accord or the second bottle the doctor had spoken about, float up into the air. It moved backwards and gently floated behind a large bookcase. Skinner allowed himself a rare smile. He had done something that would help Sawyer at last - as long as the doctor didn't realize the bottle was missing. He had no time to do anything about this however, as the doctor turned back to his bag, bending down and picking it up. He slipped the first bottle back into the bag, giving the inside of it a quick glance as he did. Skinner froze in horror, even though he knew there was no way he could be seen.   
  
Then the moment of danger passed as the doctor shut his bag with a 'snap', before shaking hands with M. Then he turned and walked out of the room with the heavy step of the defeated, making his way towards the cell that was his room.  
  
The Doctor had done his job well. Already Tom was giving soft groans and slight hiccups of breath as he slowly returned to wakefulness. Skinner moved towards the door, glad the the Doctor had left it a little bit open.  
  
Skinner was a coward in these matters.  
  
He couldn't just stand there and watch M beat Tom senseless, then wake him and start the cycle all over again. He had to do something that would help his young friend and until M got bored of tonight's entertainment he couldn't give Tom the medicine he had stolen.   
  
Which just left Skinner with the task of memorizing every inch of this base. Skinner had barely left the room before the first blow landed on Tom's already abused body. Tom gave a soft groan but refused to scream and give in to the monster in front of him.  
  
M snarled, his rage taking over. He hit Tom again and again. As each blow landed Tom would give some small sound but fought against letting the scream he could feel get past his closed teeth.  
  
The older man backed away and stared at the younger man in some confusion. Tom hung from his chains, breathing harshly. By rights he should have been screaming from the first blow.  
  
"Americans. You all have to be so stubborn." M muttered, his gaze racking up and down the other man's body one last time, a childish pout on his face. He hated not getting his own way and right now his own way involved of lots of screaming and pain, all from Tom Sawyer.  
  
Then a slow, sly grin slipped onto his face. He turned away, to the tray of metal instruments and picked one up, slipping it onto his hand. M stood with his back to Tom for a few long moments, enjoying the intense atmosphere. Then he whipped round and punched Tom, hard in the stomach with the metal object attached to his hand.   
  
He was wearing knuckle-dusters.  
  
The knuckle-duster hit Tom right on the rib that was the most tender. There was a loud crack that echoed sickeningly round the room as Tom's rib snapped.   
  
Tom screamed.  
  
M laughed, fingering the knuckle-duster, a smile of pure delight on his face. He moved to punch Tom in the same spot again, stopping at the last second, a happy look on his face. It slowly faded at the absence of a flinch.  
  
//The boy must be scared of me now.\\ he thought, lifting Tom's head to get a better look at him. Sawyer's eyes were unfocused and hazy as he looking around the room. There was not a hint of fear in those eyes. M whipped his hand away from the boy in disgust. Maybe he should have let the doctor do something about the head injury? It was too late now, M was not the sort of person to change his mind if it meant showing mercy on his prisoners.  
  
M removed the knuckle-duster and placed it back on the tray. All the boy needed was a few hours rest. Then the fun could begin again.   
  
Slightly cheered by that thought, M delivered one last kick to Tom Sawyer's body, this time to the back of his knee. He watched with satisfaction as the leg gave out on the boy before being gingerly placed back on the ground in an automatic effort to remove strain from his injured shoulder.  
  
Then the evil mastermind turned on his heel and stalked out of the room. He had real work to do, the fun would just have to wait.  
  
~~~  
  
Skinner crept back into the room a hour later. He moved steady over to Sawyer, not wanting to disturb him if he was gaining any precious and much needed healing sleep. Any hopes of this were dashed as he looked into his friends face.  
  
Tom's eyes were wide and staring. It was clear from the complete lack of reaction he gave after Skinner said his name the the boy was past hearing. Skinner nearly tripped up over his own feet as he turned, running for the bookcase where he had hid the medicine. His one hope was that he wasn't too late. Grabbing the bottle, he hurried back over to Sawyer. His flesh was clammy, Skinner realized with growing horror. He pulled the stopper out of the bottle and gently tried to tip some of the liquid into Tom's mouth.  
  
The American suddenly came to life, spluttering, fighting against the medicine that was trying to run down his throat, not knowing that it would save his life.  
  
"Easy Sawyer, easy." the thief pleaded, trying once more to pour some the liquid down Sawyer.   
  
It might have been Skinner's voice, some inner instinct or simply the fact he didn't have any energy left Skinner didn't know. Which ever one it was though, it meant that this time around, Sawyer swallowed a lot more of the medicine.   
  
Skinner gave a sigh of relief and carefully re-stopped the bottle before placing it back in it's hiding place. He then grabbed a towel from the metal tray and wiped away all outward traces of the medicine. The last thing he wanted was M twigging to the fact that someone had treated Tom. He placed the towel back onto the tray. At that moment, behind him, he heard a shocked gasp.  
  
Skinner turned around and paled - not that anyone would have been able to tell.  
  
The Doctor was standing just inside the door, his mouth hanging open at the sight of a floating towel. Skinner gulped.  
  
This really was the last thing he needed.  
  
TBC...  
  
Okay, Okay, I don't know very much about medicine at all. I do know you shouldn't fall asleep if you have a concussion but that's about it. So there probably isn't some kind of amazing medicine that cures concussion, but for the sake of this story, let's just pretend there is.  
  
Thank you so much for reading this part, I hope you all enjoyed it. Now please, please leave a review to let me know what you think!  
  
~Sethoz 


	5. Edge of Darkness

Disclaimer: Sorry this took so long to post, I was suddenly ill. Still, it's posted now.  
  
I don't own LXG, Tom Sawyer, Allan Quatermain, Mina Hawker, Skinner, Captain Nemo, Dorian Gray, Dr. Jekyll, Mr. Hyde, M or anything else used in the fic.  
  
Angharad:- Hope this pleases, as for Dorian... well, just read this part and see. ;)  
  
Beguile:- It's lovely hair. And I never said the medicine worked, now did I.  
  
Roz:- You're watching me? *scared look* Well, where is this new SW fic? I need my Obi-Angst damnit!  
  
Clez:- This part is mostly for you, as you were kind enough to moan at me again, and again, and again. Hope you enjoy and look! The cliffhanger isn't... too... evil.  
  
Graymoon74:- I could be more violent. Do you want me to? Please, please don't beat me up, wait till part 8...   
  
drowchild :- It's always nice to read a non-slash. (nothing against slash.)  
  
Please, read then review!  
  
Black Pawn, White Pawn.  
  
~~~  
  
Part 4:- Edge of Darkness.  
  
~~~  
  
"He presently got safely beyond the reach of capture and punishment, and hastened toward the public square of the village, where two "military" companies of boys had met for conflict, according to previous appointment. Tom was General of one of these armies, Joe Harper (a bosom friend) General of the other."  
  
~The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. Chapter 3.  
~By Mark Twain.  
  
Skinner moved towards the door and the still frozen Doctor. The man turned his head to look at the guard at the end of the corridor then back at the empty room. Doctor Boca acted on the spur of the moment.  
  
"Meet me in my room in twenty minutes." he said to the empty space in front of him then turned and walked briskly down the corridor. Skinner walked out of the room and stared after the Doctor, hardly believing his luck.  
  
Even if it was a trap, he had to go, he had no choice.  
  
The guard at the end of the corridor saw the Doctor walk towards him, pausing at the gold doors. He saw him look inside and freeze, then say something to empty space before walking down the corridor towards him. At no time did the Doctor enter M's private quarters.   
  
The guard was to remember that later.  
  
~~~  
  
Tom groaned and lifted his head, his gaze slightly clearer than it was before. He titled his head and looked up at the handcuffs. Giving a growl he began to tug at them, trying to free his arms. The strain of pulling tore the newly formed skin on his shoulder where the bullet had been removed. Tom didn't seem to notice though as he kept pulling. After a few minutes of this he stopped and considered his next move. He coughed violently.  
  
Tom jumped, lifting his legs from the ground so that his whole weight was on his arms and the chains. The movement jerked his broken rip, making it dig into his tender skin. There was no reaction to the pain on the young man's face.  
  
One of the links in the chain began to weaken and bend slightly. Tom looked at it, a slight maniacal grin on his face.  
  
~~~  
  
Doctor Boca paced up and down his tiny room, wiping his forehead every few seconds. He was scared, scared out of his mind. He didn't know why he said those words to that empty room.   
  
What had he been thinking?   
  
He must have had a bought of insanity. That was the only answer he could come up. It had nothing to do with the fact that he wanted to help the young man, nothing to do with the fact the M sickened him and it had nothing what so ever to do with the fact that the young man looked like his son.  
  
No, it had nothing to do with that.  
  
He was interrupted from his thoughts by the fact that his door opened and closed of it's own accord. Before he could react he felt himself flying thought the air and hitting the wall. An invisible hand pressed down on his mouth, making it impossible to talk.  
  
"You listen to me." A male voice hissed in his ear. "I'm going to let you go now, but it you make any loud sound, any at all, I'll kill you. Do you understand me?" The presser on the Doctor's face was eased off slightly, giving him the chance to nod or shake his head. Doctor Boca nodded slightly. The presser left his face completely.  
  
"Wh-who are you?" Boca asked. "Or, should I ask, what are you?"   
  
"Why didn't you tell anyone I was in that room with Sawyer?" Skinner said, ignoring the questions. The Doctor shrugged, his mouth opening and closing, rather like a fish.   
  
"I don't know." Boca said. "I... I want to help that young man." he sat down on his bed and placed his hands in his head. He didn't even know why he trusting a person he couldn't even see, for all he knew this... thing would walk out of the room and report him to M. Even as he was thinking this, he was looking up, his hands reaching out for his black bag.  
  
"I've got some medicine he can have-" he began. Skinner interrupted him.  
  
"Oh, yeah, I nicked it from your bag and gave it to him." the invisible man said proudly. The Doctor's reaction was not what he expected. Boca jumped up and grabbed at the area where he thought the man was.  
  
"You did what!" he yelled, his face going purple. "how much did you give him?"   
  
"Umm..." Skinner said, confused by the other man's actions. "I dunno, a few mouthfuls." Doctor Boca backed away from Skinner and sat back down on his bed, disbelief on his face.  
  
"A few mouthfuls? You idiot! Didn't you read the label? You are only supposed to give them a few teaspoons, a small mouthful at most!"  
  
"You... you mean I gave Sawyer an overdose?" Skinner asked. Boca nodded. "But, how can that be dangerous, I mean all it does is cure his head."  
  
"It does a lot more than that." Boca said softly. "Okay, let me explain. The medicine works on two levels. One, it encourages the body to release adrenaline into the system. This helps numb pain. Two, when it reaches the brain it works on decreasing the swelling on the brain."  
  
"I still don't understand why an overdoes of that is bad." Skinner said, loosing interest.  
  
"Adrenaline creates energy that you wouldn't normally have. Now imagine someone who has so much adrenaline in there blood that they can't feel any pain. They would be able to run faster, jump higher and take more damage. However just because they can't feel pain, doesn't mean they are immune to pain." Boca said.   
  
"What?" Skinner said, still confused. Boca groaned and rubbed at his temple.  
  
"Let's say you have person A and person B. Now A puts his hand in a fire. He would instantly move it, because of the heat wouldn't he?"  
  
"Yeah..." Skinner said slowly.  
  
"Now, if B, who is high on adrenaline puts his hand in the fire, he won't remove it, because he can't feel the heat. He would burn his hand off."  
  
"Oh. Hell." Skinner muttered, running out of the room.   
  
//Great, just great. Tom was high, immune to pain and had a score to settle with M. Allan was going to kill me if he ever found out.\\ Skinner thought as he reached the golden doors and darted in. The chains that normally would have held Tom were empty, half broken and twisted, as if some mad beast had attacked them.  
  
//Oh yeah.\\ Skinner gulped. //Allan is really going to kill me when he finds out.\\ His gaze darted from the chains to a groaning man on the floor. Skinner recognized him as the guard who had been posted outside the room. From the look of him though it was as it someone had whipped him in the head, very hard, with the missing end of the chains. There was the sound of running footsteps outside the room and the next second M and two guards had burst in, panting hard. M's gaze fell on the groaning man.  
  
"What the hell happened here?" he snarled, grabbing the stunned man and shaking him. The guard groaned again and tried to speak.  
  
"The brat... there was noise. I went to check it out... the next thing, there was chain flying towards me that hit me right on the head."  
  
"Was he alone?" M asked. The man didn't answer. "I said, was he alone?" M roared.  
  
"No-one entered the room... and only one person walked past it, your Doctor, but he didn't enter. The brat was alone." M let go of the guard and stood up, ignoring the cry of pain that the other man gave as his head connected hard with the ground.  
  
"Find him, he can't have gone far! And get this man out of here!" M yelled, stalking up the steps and into his inner room. The two guards bowed and picked up their companion, dragging him out of the room. Skinner was about to follow when he heard the low clanking of chains come from the room M had just entered. Against his better judgment he climbed the stairs and peered inside.   
  
It seemed that M had heard the noise as well. He was standing in the middle of the room, his whole stance ready for anything - anything that is, except what happened in the next few seconds. Tom leaped from his hiding place and smashed into M, sending the older man to the floor. The American stood over him, his chest heaving. His handcuff's had snapped in two, leaving a metal band around each wrist. Attached to each metal band was a chain. Tom snapped one of his arms around, the tip of the chain catching M right on the face. He swung around, the chains whipping though the air, hitting M and sending him flying.  
  
M hit the ground with a solid thump. Instantly Tom was standing over him, his hands wrapped around M's neck.   
  
"Go on then." wheezed M, struggling to breath. "Kill me. Put me out of my misery. Become like me." Tom's fingers tightened around M's neck, the expression on his face one of utmost delight.  
  
At that moment ten of M's top guards came running into the room, alerted by the banging. Tom let go of M and turned to face this new threat. Skinner jumped backwards to avoid being trampled.  
  
Tom sent a hand flying, the chain smashing full force into the face of the nearest man. The chain wrapped around his neck, trapping him. Tom spun, using his new found strength to drag the trapped man with him, using his as a human shield. Even with his extra strength, Tom was no match for the sheer number of men who charged in after the original ten.   
  
M walked over to the struggling boy, trying to control his breath. He felt at his tender neck, a growl escaping as he realized finger shaped bruises would come up. M slapped Tom, hard across the face.   
  
"Does it make you feel strong?" Tom spat out, still struggling to reach his tormentor. "Does it make you feel all powerful and manly to hit a restrained person?" For a second M held Tom's gaze before hitting him again in the face.  
  
"Yes."  
  
~~~  
  
"Well, at least one good thing came of this." Doctor Boca said, looking at the indent on his bed the signified where Skinner was sitting.  
  
"Oh yes? And what might that be? We all get the chance to have tea and crumpets?" Skinner answered. Boca shook his head.  
  
"Due to the overdose and the fact he had that other medicine in his body, his broken rib should have begun to heal faster than it normally would. I would guess that it had already begun to knit together." Boca finished.  
  
"Yeah, great, so M can inflict more pain on him." Skinner said.  
  
"At least Tom won't be able to puncture a lung." Boca said, before the two fell in silence.  
  
~~~  
  
Tom leaned against the cool wall, the natural high he was on slowly dissipating. The door to M's room creaked open. The boy didn't look up as footsteps came towards him, he didn't react to the shadow that fell over his bowed head.   
  
Tom was just so tired. So very, very tired.  
  
The shadow didn't speak for a while, it just watched the boy. Then a cool, delicate hand reached down and cupped Tom's face, forcing him to look upwards - right into the arrogant smile of Dorian Gray.  
  
TBC...  
  
There you have it! Please, please leave a review, hopefully the next part will be up soon!  
  
~Sethoz 


	6. Fragile, like Glass

Disclaimer: The Writer (Sethoz) would like me to give out this disclaimer as she is currently in hiding.   
  
She doesn't own LXG, Tom Sawyer, Allan Quatermain, Mina Hawker, Skinner, Captain Nemo, Dorian Gray, Dr. Jekyll, Mr. Hyde, M or anything else used in the fic.  
  
Before retreating to her hideout she left these notes,  
  
Clez:- awww, you say the nicest things! No-one's ever called me the EPITOME of evil before. Hope the insanity works out for you! Here's my pay back. Eat Angst!  
  
Roz:- Well, write faster! Be inspired! Post it!!!!   
  
angelic katty:- Yep, and another cliffhanger in this part.  
  
Beguile:- see, more and it didn't even kill you ;)  
  
LotRseer3350:- Dorian beat him up? With fists? That just isn't his style.  
  
Angel32:- Yes. Yes, I do like torture.  
  
Capt.Cow:- That last one was a really good cliffhanger? This one is my idea of a good cliffhanger...  
  
Black Pawn, White Pawn.  
  
~~~  
  
Part 5:- Fragile, like Glass.  
  
~~~  
  
"If Dorian wishes it, of course you must stay. Dorian's whims are laws to everybody, except himself."   
~ The Picture of Dorian Gray, Chapter 2.   
~ By Oscar Wilde.  
  
Dorian stared thoughtfully into Tom's face, his expression one of worry.   
  
"My dear boy, how are you?" he asked. Tom just looked blankly at him. He didn't know what Dorian wanted, but he had a suspension that it would involve some kind of pain. Tom was tired of being M's punching bag and there was no way he wanted to be Dorian's. Plus the adrenaline in his body was slowly fading away, leaving empty space, rather like what a drug addict feels when he or she is coming down from their high.  
  
"Aren't you going to ask me why I did it? Why I betrayed the League?" Dorian asked, his voice holding just the faintest trace of mockery. Tom leaned back, feeling the wall against his back. He was glad that these new chains were longer, long enough to let him sit on the ground. Dorian's question burned into his brain, refusing him any rest.  
  
"Would I get a straight answer if I did?" he replied, trying to ignore the dull ache that had started in his chest. Dorian laughed.  
  
"Probably not." he admitted. Tom gave a bitter smile.  
  
"Like you said, you're complicated." Tom answered,the dull ache slowly becoming more sharp and less dull.   
  
//That would be my broken rib then.\\ Tom though. He gritted his teeth as thousands of little pin pricks could be felt all over his skin. He felt as if he was on fire. If Dorian noticed Tom's discomfit, he choose to ignore it.  
  
"M is going to brake you, you understand that don't you." He said. Tom looked Dorian right in the eyes, his gaze not wavering.  
  
"He will not brake me." Tom said. Dorian gave a delicate sigh.  
  
"Ah, your famous American stubbiness. No-one is unbreakable, do you understand me? Everyone is just like glass..." Dorian held up a small glass and squeezed it tightly. The glass broke, it's shards flying all over the room.  
  
"Liable to shatter if the right presser is applied to them." he finished.  
  
"He. Will. Not. Brake. Me." Tom said slowly, the pain increasing like wildfire.   
  
"He doesn't have to brake your mind Sawyer. He could brake your body just as easily. In fact it would most likely be more simple." Dorian placed a hand on Tom's chest, noticing the ever so slight shadow of pain that crossed Tom's face. Then he slowly pulled his hand away.  
  
"You see? Sooner or later, your own body will betray you. You will automatically flinch when ever he comes near you, no matter how hard you try to control yourself."  
  
"He will have to kill me first." Tom said hotly. Dorian shook his head, looking sad. Tom could feel himself falling for Dorian's act, could almost believe that the man had Tom's best interests at heart.  
  
//He betrayed me, he betrayed all of us, he killed Ishmael.\\ Tom chanted to himself.  
  
"Don't you realize that if M kills you, on his terms that he wins? If he kills you in any way, be it on purpose or simply his rage getting the best of him, then he has broken you. Your body betrays you, just in a different way." Dorian finished. He walked a few paces away and sat down in M's lavish chair, allowing Tom the chance to think over what he had just said. Dorian allowed himself a smile.   
  
His foot still stung slightly from the bullet. There was no medical reason why it should hurt at all, it was more psychological. He had yet to return the favor to Tom, but it looked like he would finally get a chance as the boy was in a perfect state of mind.  
  
//Delicious.\\ he thought, watching Tom's face closely, noting every emotion that flickered over his face. When you had been alive as long as Dorian had, it was so easy to read people's faces and Tom Sawyer's face was a partially exciting story, not least because he was even more unpredictable that Dorian had first thought. He would have to do this slowly, skillfully, to achieve the desired result.  
  
"It's not as if I can stop him killing me." Tom said at last, in a sullen voice. "I can't get out of these chains and it's not as if you are going to help me."  
  
"True." Dorian said in an off-hand way. "Each time someone leaves this room, a guard has been ordered to check inside to make sure you are still locked up. Not only that but there are three guards posted outside the door. There is no way you could escape."  
  
"I don't care what you say. I won't let him brake me." Tom said, turning his head so he didn't have to look at Dorian's face. It was hard to resist the urge to jump up and hit him, to wipe that cocky smile off his face.  
  
//Does he even know I can reach him, when he's in that chair?\\ wondered Tom.  
  
"Ah, ah, let me finish." Dorian said, lifting a white finger in order to attract Tom's attention back. "You can still beat him."  
  
"How?" Tom asked. Despite himself he had turned back to Dorian and was staring at him in fascination. Dorian smiled, his teeth showing.  
  
"You can escape by not giving him what he wants." He said. Tom looked at him blankly, completely confused.  
  
"He wants to brake you. In the end if he kills you, he will. If, however, you die in your own manner of choosing, then he looses. There would be no way he would be able to win."  
  
"You mean suicide." Tom said flatly. This was not the reaction Dorian had been hoping for. He had expected shouting, some kind of fire, not this cold answer. He somehow had to get Tom angry, thrown him off center, stop him from thinking things through.  
  
"I would do it for you, kill you to save you, but the guards would see and stop me, saving you and you would loose any chance you had of escape."  
  
"It's not really escape though, is it." Tom said, doubt lurking in his mind. "I mean, I'll be dead."  
  
"Wake up Sawyer!" Dorian yelled, for a second his temper had taken over. "No one is coming to save you. The League is dead, Nemo and his crew are submerged forever at the bottom of the sea. This is the only option you have left." He stood up and walked back, leaning down and grabbing Tom's face.  
  
"I am going to leave a glass behind you." He hissed. "When the guard had checked you, you can brake it and use the broken bits to make a cutting escape. Trust me. You do not want to be around when M comes back. I hear he has a new... toy he wishes to try out." Dorian stepped back, running his tongue along his teeth. He had done all he could. He placed the glass where he said he would and stepped back.  
  
"Think about it." he whispered. "I'll be back in a little while." He turned and walked out of the room, well aware that Tom Sawyer was watching him as he did so.   
  
Dorian had considered - for a second or two - simply killing Tom Sawyer in revenge. But that was too easy, too quick. No, this way, would get the result he wanted - Tom's death, yet it would also serve to destroy the boy mentally before hand.  
  
No-one tried to chop Dorian's head off. No-one.  
  
~~~  
  
Tom let his gaze drop to the floor as Dorian left, not even looking up as the guard looked in. He didn't bother to fight him as the man walked up and gave a tug on the chains, to satisfy himself that the American was still secure.  
  
It was only after the guard had gone that Tom allowed himself to think about what Dorian Gray had said. His shifted his aching muscles, blocking from his mind the pain, as he picked up the glass Dorian had left him.   
  
//It would be fast.\\ his inner voice said. //Do you really think you can take much more of what M is doing? Do you want to be broken, crawling on all fours like a beast?\\  
  
The longer he thought about it, the better it seemed to just end it all now, finish it once and for all. A last defiant gesture in the face of M. Just a little bit more extreme than spitting.  
  
He smashed the glass.  
  
~~~  
  
"The Nautilus is ready for departure." Nemo announced. Allan Quartermain looked up the sea chart he was studying.  
  
"At last!" he said gruffly. "Who knows what M has been up to while we have been stuck out here." he didn't voice the thought that the submarine would have been fixed faster, if Sawyer had been with them or if no-one had to worry about his safety.   
  
"Has Mrs. Hawker been informed yet?" He asked. Captain Nemo shook his head.  
  
"Not yet, I thought, perhaps, you would like to do that." he said, giving Allan a bow before walking out, heading for the room where Kali was housed.  
  
"Hold on boy." Quartermain said, looking in the direction of Mongolia. "Don't let that... thing win. Just hold on a little longer, we're almost there." Then he too left the room, looking for Mina to tell her the news.  
  
He found her on the deck that had been turned into a hospital. She was moving from bed to bed, checking each man as she did so. Allan stood in the shadows, watching her. As she finished with the last patent she stopped and wiped at her brow, closing her eyes for a moment.  
  
"You need to rest." Allan said softly. Mina turned to face him.  
  
"I need to help these people." she said. "I need..."  
  
"You need sleep. Nemo has told me we can set off now. We will be in Mongolia soon and you will need all your strength for that. Sawyer will need all your strength for that." he said. Mina looked up at him, guilt in her eyes.  
  
//Was that a small hint?\\ she thought. //Does he know about my dream?\\ Everything Quartermain said made sense though. She would need all her strength, all her self-control if she could resist feeding on Tom Sawyer.   
  
She could loose all that self-control though, when she found Dorian.  
  
"He has lived long enough." she hissed, too low for Allan Quartermain to hear. "He will not live for many more days."  
  
~~~  
  
Dorian fingered a tall glass, then gave it a tiny tap. The glass gave off a musical note. It was amazing the sound some things made. Take the hot headed Special Agent. Dorian had played him as you would play an instrument and the boy had responded beautifully to the touch. Every word that had stuck Tom had resulted in a tone, making a lovely tune. It was enough to bring a tear to your eye.  
  
People were so easy to play, if you had the correct training of course. And Dorian had learnt from the master - Lord Henry, who had played Dorian himself, many, many years ago. But Lord Henry was dead, killed by that most horrid of illness - old age.  
  
Still that was something that Dorian himself would never have to worry about. And if he had played Tom Sawyer as well as he thought he had, then that was something Tom would never have to worry about as well.   
  
"I think that's long enough." he said, picking up his stick and moving out of the room. Time to check up on his project.  
  
It was so exciting.  
  
As Dorian neared his destination, he could feel his excitement growing. He nearly skipped down the corridor, as he saw the gold doors ahead of him. He nodded to the guard as he passed, his head held high. Calmly he pushed open the door and took a step inside, before closing the door behind him.   
  
He turned to face Tom. The young man was slumped on the floor, his body turned towards the wall. Dorian moved over to him, his hand reaching out to turn the body over. As he did so a flash of light passed and he gave a yelp as the jagged end of a glass was sliced over his face.   
  
The wounds healed almost instantly but Dorian didn't notice. He was watching the alive man, in surprise. Tom stared cooly at the other man before throwing the broken glass against the opposite wall, away from him.  
  
"You know, I did some thinking after you left. And it stuck me, that if I die then M wins anyway, but if I kill myself, because of you, then you win." He gave a tiny groan of pain. "I don't want you to win."  
  
"You really think you matter?" Dorian asked with a sneer, regaining his control.   
  
"You are nothing more than a measly pawn in a gigantic game of chess. And you know the rules of chess don't you? Pawns are sacrificed, but no one gives a damn about them. Least of all me." He turned away and walked towards the doors the hand holding his stick tightly clenched.  
  
//You may think you've won, but only this round Sawyer. Oh yes, I still have one more piece to play.\\ Promised Dorian. As he reached the door, M entered, a twisted smile on his features, purple spots around his neck, where Tom's hands had grabbed him. Dorian turned back for a instant, a smirk on his face then walked away.  
  
M reached his helpless captive and pulled him to his feet.  
  
"You know, I've been thinking." M said, in a cheerful voice. Tom watched him warily. He didn't like this new turn of events at all. What on Earth had made M so happy?   
  
"The League must be dead. Otherwise they would have come by now. So therefor I have no use for you. But don't worry. I don't want to kill you anymore." He yanked Tom's head up by the hair so he could look into Tom's eyes.  
  
"I want to do more than just plain torture. I want to turn you into my very own guard dog. You can sleep in this corner and if you are well behaved and get rid of intruders, why you will get a treat." Tom looked at the other man in horror. M laughed.  
  
"Oh don't look so shocked. Believe me, once I'm through with you, you will be kissing my feet and thanking me for having the kindness to save you."  
  
"Never." Snarled Tom. M let go of his hair.  
  
"Never say never Agent Sawyer. After all I can be very... convincing." M's smile grew. "Now... does doggy want a treat?"  
  
~~~  
  
Tom was alone again. He had nothing to do but brood over M's new plans for him. There was no way he was going to allow himself to become M's pet. He would rather die.  
  
And now, if he died, M would loose. So all Tom had to do was enrage M enough to kill him. It would have three purposes. Tom would be free, M would loose and so would Dorian.  
  
At that very moment Dorian entered the room again, a tiny bottle and needle in his hands.   
  
"What do you want now?" Tom asked, his eyes drawn to the two items Dorian was carrying. The immortal didn't answer him. He slowly moved over to the table, allowing Tom to see everything he did.  
  
He placed the bottle on the table and opened it. Then he dipped the needle in and scooped up some of the liquid. Dorian tapped the needle, to make sure that there was no air bubbles in it.  
  
"This is an invention of mine." he said briskly, giving the needle a little squeeze. "It is a mixture of some drugs, perfect for people who want to have a good time. It's very strong though." Tom shook his chains, trying to get away as Dorian stepped closer before grabbing his arm in a iron tight grip.  
  
"Did you really think I would just forget our little encounter on the Nautilus? You should know better than that." He inserted the needle into Tom's arm and pressed the plunger in. Tom watched helplessly as the drugs were injected into his blood.  
  
"This will numb the pain you are feeling. However it is not advisable for people who are not used to the sheer strength of it." Tom looked up at the towering figure of Dorian.  
  
"It can cause hallucinations and other... unpleasant things. It will not be a pleasant ride." Dorian said as he removed the needle and stopped up the bottle.  
  
"Have fun." he said cheerfully, collecting all the evidence and walking out of the room. Tom began to shiver, suddenly feeling cold. He knew that he shouldn't feel like this, that the room was really quite warm.  
  
That meant only one thing. The drug was already effecting him, toying with his senses, making him believe things that were false. He looked up through his long hair. The shadows seemed to be alive, with mocking devil like faces.  
  
They were all around him, claws for hands reaching out, trying to drag him down with them, to the very fires of hell.   
  
Tom closed his eyes but he could still see them, imprinted behind his eyelids.  
  
TBC...  
  
The writer hopes you leave a review and refrain from killing her. She will return from hiding in time for the next part.  
  
~Sethoz. 


	7. Barely There

Disclaimer: Thank you so much to everyone who review the last chapter! You guys rock!   
  
I don't own LXG, Tom Sawyer, Allan Quatermain, Mina Hawker, Skinner, Captain Nemo, Dorian Gray, Dr. Jekyll, Mr. Hyde, M or anything else used in the fic.  
  
I forgot to say this in the last part but Lord Henry is a character from 'The Picture of Dorian Gray' (I love that book.)   
  
In this part Aunt Polly is from 'The Adventures of Tom Sawyer'. The first six lines are taken directly from the same book. Also there is a mention of Huckleberry Finn, I've deiced to follow the cannon of a deleted scene from the movie so Huck is dead. (That's all you really need to know about him...)  
  
Clez:- Bad things huh? Don't worry Dorian and M will... probably go down.  
  
Drowchild:- That would be cool, but you'll just have to wait for the rest of 'The Bodyguard for that to happen ;)  
  
Cynthia, Ruby of the Rose:- I'm so glad you're enjoying this, and look, another pat and me out of hiding.  
  
Canopus Carina:- Thanks for the info on Skinner. It did help.  
  
Angel32:- Yep, cliffhangers all round. Hope this chapter doesn't disappoint.  
  
Beguile:- I think you might have to get in line to kill Dorian... though you're right, Stuart Townsend is hot.  
  
LotRseer3350:- Here's another part.  
  
Roz:- Thanks for pointing out the spelling mistakes... *blush* But to make it up, this part is double the length I normally write!  
  
Zhane3:- Aww shucks... you should really see the movie.  
  
Tonianne:- Is Tom going to die? You're just have to wait and see.  
  
Mellaithwen-ElvenMaiden:- It was a good cliffhanger, wasn't it.  
  
Graymoon74:- Dorian is indeed a *beep* Will he get his comeuppance in this part? Maybe... maybe not.  
  
Fayra:- I'm so glad someone noticed Lord Henry, I love that novel!  
  
Angharad:- Evil Dorian is best. Well, as there is only two parts left... M dying in a horrible way? Find out next chapter.  
  
Hope you all enjoy this part, please, please read then review!  
  
Black Pawn, White Pawn.  
  
~~~  
  
Part 6:- Barely There.  
  
~~~  
  
"Well hello to you too. And need I remind you I AM naked in the snow. I can't feel any of my extremities, and I mean ANY of them."  
  
~ Rodney Skinner, Gentleman Thief.  
~ The League of Extraordinary Gentleman : The Movie.  
  
"TOM!"   
  
No answer.   
  
"TOM!"   
  
No answer.   
  
"What's gone with that boy, I wonder? You TOM!"   
  
No answer.   
  
"TOM!" The voice seemed to come from a long distance away. "Tom Sawyer, wake up this instant!" Tom opened his eyes, to find he was looking at the old face of his Aunt Polly.  
  
"Tom, didn't I tell ya to whitewash this here fence?" she asked. Tom looked around in confusion.  
  
"Aunt?" he whispered in disbelief. He looked around in amazement, he was back in his aunt's backyard and he was a child again. He stood up, his mouth hanging open.  
  
"And shut that there mouth of yours. What do ya think it's for? Fly catching?" his aunt said, a fond smile creeping onto her face.  
  
"Aunt!" Tom said again, before engulfing her in a bear hug. His aunt gave a start, this was most unlike Tom, he would never hug her unless he was in trouble and as far as she knew for once in his life he wasn't in any real trouble.   
  
She gave a chuckle.  
  
"Tom, boy, you can hug me all ya like, but ya still have to whitewash. So hop to it!" Polly said.  
  
"Yes Aunt, right away." Tom said happily. His aunt stared after him, a bemused expression on her face.  
  
"Well, I never did see the like with that boy." she said, before turning and walking back into her house.  
  
Tom groaned and lifted his head, transported back into M's base - or M's summer retreat as he mentally called it. He needed to make these little comments in his head, it was the only weapon he had left. He groaned again, tears stinging at his eyes. That delusion had been so much more real than the last one.   
  
Before he had just seen members of the League rush into M's rooms, to save him. He had seen Allen, Jekyll, Nemo and Skinner - or rather he had seen Skinner's coat and hat. Each time had been fake, mental images conjured up by the drugs Dorian had given him.  
  
"Tom? Tom, I can't take it anymore I've getting you out of here." A voice hissed. Tom wearily lifted his head.  
  
//Great, another Skinner. If I have to have delusions, why couldn't I have one to do with Mina?\\ he thought.  
  
"You're... you're not real..." Tom muttered, closing his eyes again. "Drugged, make me see things, play with my mind."  
  
"You think I'm not real?" Skinner asked. "What would it take to convince you?" he asked, checking Tom's chain's to try and work out how to get him out of them. Tom looked down at the floor.  
  
"As you're not real and just in my head, there is no way you can prove it to me. I'm just seeing what I want, so I'll just get the answers I want."  
  
"You want to see me? Cor, never knew you had a thing for me Sawyer! Sadly I just don't find you physically attractive." Skinner said. He did a loud, fake sniff.   
  
"I'm so sorry." Skinner finished. Tom looked up at the space where Skinner could be and a slow smile crept on to his lips and spread across his face.  
  
"You must be real. No delusion can be that annoying or that idiotic." he said. Skinner laughed but didn't answer. For a while there was no sound as Skinner checked over every link in the hope of finding a weak one. Tom leaned against the wall,watching.  
  
"You know, I never had you figured as a save-people-sort of guy." Tom said.   
  
"Yeah, well, Allen will do me in, if I let anything... else happen to you. 'Sides I was just here, thought I would help out." Skinner said. Tom nodded, a grin on his face. It soon changed to a grimace.  
  
"Promise me something." He said, all traces of laughter wiped from his face. Skinner paused in his work.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Kill me if you can't get me out." Tom said, staring intently at the area where he thought Skinner's face was.  
  
"Don't think like that. You're getting out of here." Skinner said roughly. Tom shook his head.  
  
"M wants to turn me into his pet, make me an animal. I don't want to end up like that. Just promise me that if brakes me, you'll kill me. Believe me, you'll be doing me a favor. I won't be his dog." Tom said, his voice showing real anger.  
  
"Okay." Skinner said. Tom laughed.  
  
"You don't mean that. Say it."  
  
"I promise Kid. Good thing I'll never have to use that promise." he said, tugging at the links. Finally he gave a groan and let go of the chains in disgust. "How the hell am I supposed to get you out of these?" he asked.   
  
Tom suddenly began to struggle against his bonds, a wide eyed expression his face. He was looking past Skinner, staring at something that only he could see.  
  
"No..." he moaned, arching his back in a vain attempt to escape whatever he could see.   
  
"I'm sorry." he begged. "I didn't mean to..." Skinner crossed the distance between him and Tom in a few steps. Pausing for only a fraction of a second he bent down and slapped Tom, twice, round the face.  
  
"Snap out of it!" He hissed. "You're not there anymore. You're right here, with me." Tom blinked, once, twice, three times.  
  
"Skinner...?" he whispered.  
  
"Yeah Sawyer?" Skinner asked.  
  
"Did you just hit me?" The young man asked, his voice devoid of any emotion. Skinner hesitated before replying.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Oh." Tom said, bowing his head for a moment. "Thanks... I think there are some keys behind some books in the bookcase." he added limply.   
  
"You only just thought of telling me this?" Skinner exploded. Tom shrugged his shoulders.  
  
"I only just remembered M doing something there after he was given the key." he admitted. Skinner sighed and moved over to the bookcase. They couldn't be there, it couldn't be that easy... A set of shining, silver keys rested behind a stack of 'The Stand' magazines.  
  
Skinner took them and tried to open the handcuffs. The first four keys were older than the others and didn't fit the lock. Skinner tried the fifth, a key, that even though it was still shiny, had several scratches down it from where someone had roughly forced the key into it's appointed lock.  
  
Skinner opened the handcuffs. Tom's hands fell down to his sides. With an effort he lifted them at rubbed at his wrists, trying to get some circulation through them.  
  
"So..." Skinner said, attempting to sound casual. "Any ideas on how are we going to get past the three guards I passed on my way in here?"  
  
Tom's face was shrouded in shadow. Then the American moved, forcing his tried body upwards, into the light.  
  
"Leave it too me." he said, allowing a smile to come to his face.  
  
~~~  
  
Robes stifled a yawn, and stretched his neck slightly. He doing the most boring job possible, guarding the American. Robes didn't know why three guards were needed, after all he had been one of the men to beat Tom into submission.  
  
Robes highly doubted the American had any fight in him, besides the Agent wouldn't be idiotic enough to try and fight... Robes really wished he would. A noise from inside M's room caught his attention. It was the sound of chains being banged against a wall.   
  
Robes smirked and walked to the closed door. It sounded as if the boy was trying to escape. A fact that suited Robes very well. It was about time he did something fun. The guard pushed the door open and marched in. Tom looked at him, a guilty expression on his face, then bowed his head as he dropped the chain he had been holding.   
  
Inside Robes was laughing, it was all so perfect. He wasn't allowed to kill him, but that didn't mean they would stop him having any fun. Robes strode confidently towards Tom and leaned closer.   
  
"Head up Slug!" Snapped Robes.  
  
Tom lifted his head, his blonde hair in his eyes, making it hard to see. Robes let out a short bark of laughter. Without any warning Tom swung his arm, catching Robes in the face. He jumped forward, his arms free of his chains. The two rolled about the floor, each struggling to gain the upper hand. Robes managed to wrench his arm free from Tom's grip and plunged it into his coat, pulling out a gun.   
  
Tom's eyes narrowed when he saw the gun - his gun - in the hands of the enemy.   
  
"Now, now mate, none of that." a voice chided him. Robes turned towards the voice in time to see a floating candlestick smash into him. Robes dropped to the ground instantly, his neck broken. Tom crawled towards Robes and pulled his gun from the other man's fingers. Instantly he felt stronger, more in control. A quick search though the man's clothes reveled Tom's other pistol and holsters.  
  
"Yes!" Tom hissed, holding his weapons and holsters before putting his holsters on, checking the amount of bullets he had. Tom nodded then snapped the pistols shut.   
  
"Well? I mean we managed to take out one, but there is still two others." Skinner said. Tom sighed and shook his head.  
  
"Watch and learn my friend... watch and learn." Tom said. He turned towards the door, where Huck was standing, blood dripping from his chest. Tom gave a sharp intake of breath and blinked. The image vanished.   
  
//It's all in my head, it's all in my head, it's all in my head...\\ Tom thought as he inched closer to the doors. Skinner watched, wondering what his plan was. To somehow lure one guard in at a time?   
  
In answer to Skinner's unspoken question Tom lunged forward, crashing through the gold doors, his pistols firming wildly, one pointed at each guard.  
  
//Guess that answers that question then.\\ An inner voice told Skinner as he rushed over to the wreckage that had once been doors, fearing the worse.   
  
Outside in the corridor Tom, was humming a tune, as he shoot at the guards one last time, hitting them squarely in the chest. The guns stilled, the humming froze as the bodies hit the floor.   
  
Then there was only quiet.  
  
"Well... that was interesting." Skinner said. Tom flashed a cocky grin at him.  
  
"American style shooting. Fire enough bullets, and hope to hit the target." He said, fingering the weapon lovely. If just felt right somehow, as if he had been missing a limb.  
  
"Let's get out of here." Tom added. Skinner grabbed a coat off one of the dead guards and put it on, giving him a vague shape.  
  
"We need to find Boca first." Skinner said urgently, hearing the clank of footsteps that herald the immanent arrival of more of M's men.  
  
"Who?" Tom asked, moving away from the sounds. Skinner moved with him, the two vanishing around the corner.  
  
"Boca, Doctor Boca. He helped us, we have to get him and his family out of here."  
  
"Family?" Tom asked, stopping. He began to reload his pistols. "What the hell is going on here?"  
  
~~~  
  
"Are you sure you know the way?" Tom Sawyer asked as they moved down yet another corridor, some ten minutes later. He suddenly gasped in pain, dropping to his knees as a serving wave of agony rushed through his body, claiming every fiber of him at it's own. He couldn't see, couldn't hear, he was blind to everything except the pain. His fingers froze then dropped the pistols, as he used them to support his weight. It was the withdrawal, he realized with a sinking gasp. The effort of the drugs fading away could very well kill him.  
  
//No... I will not brake...\\ he thought, determination in his eyes. With a snarl he flung himself backwards, pulling himself off the floor only to hit it again, this time on his back. Tom shook his head and began to push himself upwards. Then Skinner was there, helping him up, passing him his weapons. Tom gave a brisk nod to show his thanks.  
  
"Are yo-" Skinner began. Tom held up a hand to silence him.  
  
"I'm fine." he said. His attention was distracted by a slightly open door. He staggered over to it, weaving as a man drunk. His hands began to tremor, the pistols shaking. He pushed on the already open door and stepped inside.   
  
The room was lavishly furnished. Tom's eyes swept the room, ready for any danger. The room was empty of human life. He placed his pistols carefully back in their holsters, concentrating on stopping the shaking.  
  
"Whose room is this?" Skinner asked, having followed Tom inside. "Look at all that gold."   
  
"It's Dorian's..." Tom answered, his eyes finding Dorian's walking stick. They moved, to rest on an open wooden box, to revel a tiny bottle. A bottle Tom knew.  
  
//"It can cause hallucinations and other... unpleasant things. It will not be a pleasant ride." Dorian said as he removed the needle and stopped up the bottle.  
  
"Have fun." he said cheerfully, collecting all the evidence and walking out of the room...\\  
  
"Tom? Tom!" A voice hissed. With a great effort Tom returned to the present and stared at the jacket Skinner was wearing.  
  
"What?" Tom asked. When Skinner answered there was a trace of worry in his voice.  
  
"Come on, we need to keep moving." Skinner told him. Tom didn't answer, he seemed unable to turn his head away from the bottle. Without even knowing it, he stepped closer, his hand outstretched, shaking at he moved nearer and nearer.  
  
"No!" Skinner yelled, leaping forward and crashing into Tom. They both hit the floor, Tom fumbling for his pistols. It was highly doubtful he was even aware of who he was fighting. In his desperation Skinner pulled off his jacket to prevent Tom from seeing him.   
  
At the last moment Tom lashed out, hitting Skinner right in the chest. Skinner fell to the ground and didn't get back up. Tom groaned, and placed a hand to his mouth. When he removed it, a few drops of blood stained his fingers. He stared at them, supreme confusion on his face.  
  
"Skinner? Oh God, Skinner!" Tom said as he realized what he had done. He had no time to search from Skinner however, as in that moment footsteps could be hear nearing the half open door. Tom looked at the door, with despair in his eyes.  
  
~~~  
  
Dorian entered his room, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. The reason for the smile was tom. The thought of him going through the withdrawal - which he should have reached by now - was simply too delightful. Dorian never forgot a debt.   
  
He began to hum, as his eyes swept lazily over his room. A jacket in the corner caught his eye. It was not his. Instantly his whole poster changed ever so slightly. He still looked and sounded like a relaxing man, with not a care in the world. Dorian casually wandered towards his desk, where his walking stick was. His fingers reached out - meeting empty air.  
  
That very second there was a hum of metal was his sword was pulled from the stick. Dorian didn't even have time to turn around to face who ever was in his room.   
  
The sword pieced him from behind, pushing him forward, until he pinned to the wall. Though he tried, he couldn't reach the sword in his back and therefor couldn't pull it out.  
  
"I was wondering Dorian..." a voice said.   
  
Tom Sawyer's voice.   
  
"You know you said this drug wasn't to be used by people who weren't used to it? Well, what I want to know is what will happen if someone who is used to it has more than they should?"   
  
"You wouldn't dare." Dorian snarled. Tom laughed as he picked up the bottle and needle. Tom watched the liquid with a hungry expression in his eyes.  
  
"You want it, don't you." Dorian said, having twisted his neck as far as he could to see Tom better. Tom ignored him and continued to fill the needle, every once of him focused on this simple task and not letting his hands shake.   
  
"Inject yourself... you want it, you want to feel the rush." Dorian whispered. Tom strode over to Dorian and placed the needle in Dorian's arm. His finger hovered over the plunger, torn between what to do.  
  
"Go on..." Dorian said. "Put the drug in yourself..." Tom's eyes narrowed and he pressed the plunger. Dorian gave out a gasp of surprise as he did so. Tom didn't stop, dipping the needle back into the bottle he then filled it and injected Dorian again.  
  
"Slipped up there." Tom said feverishly, as he snapped the lid shut. Tom closed his eyes, breathing heavily, sweat running down his face. "You should have remembered I am very contrary."  
  
Dorian didn't hear him though. He was lost in his own mind.   
  
Tom opened his eyes and staggered out into the corridor. He fell forward, eyes closing, accepting the pain he was about to receive. Tom didn't hit the ground. He forced his eyes open, blearily. He could see the ground, there was nothing between him and it, so why hadn't he fallen?   
  
"Tom?" Skinner asked, shaking the boy. Tom coughed, feeling the pain bubbling up inside of him, rushing towards his mouth, the one escape point. He clamped his mouth shut, refusing to give the pain a voice. For what seemed like forever to him, the pain lapped angrily at his closed mouth, before falling back, out of conscious thought.  
  
"I-I'm okay." Tom said. "Are you? I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to..."  
  
"It's okay kid. Come on, we still need to find Boca." Skinner said, helping Tom along the corridor.  
  
It took them another five minutes before they came across Boca. He was holding a dark haired woman and she was holding him. Each held on to the other as if there very lives depended on it. Between them, they hugged a little boy, no more than ten years old. The woman gave a gasp of fear as she saw what seemed like a body float towards her.  
  
"Doc?" Skinner said, easing Tom to the ground. "Doc, I need your help. He needs your help." Skinner pleaded. Boca slowly, reluctantly removed himself from his wife and her embrace and went over to Tom.  
  
"He needs rest. At least a nights rest somewhere safe, without any fear. That's all that can help him now." Boca said.   
  
"Peter!" his wife screamed. Boca turned, to see a guard holding his son, a gun pointed at his head. The guard clicked the gun as Boca's wife screamed again, this time a single note, held and held.  
  
In the mist of all this confusion Tom lifted his head. From his vantage point on the floor he could just see the legs of everyone. He could see kicking feet and another pair behind it. Tom heard Boca's wife scream.  
  
//She shouldn't have to scream.\\ Tom thought, pulling out one of his pistols. He pointed it at the older set of legs and took aim.  
  
"Please, please, don't hurt him!" Mrs. Boca begged. The guard smiled. A gun fired. The little boy widened his eyes in disbelief. But no pain happened. The guard behind him froze as a gun fired again. Then he slowly toppled backwards. Tom lowered his still smoking pistol and placed his head back on the floor.  
  
"Shoulda picked on someone his own size." he muttered. Skinner and Boca ran over to Tom, while Mrs. Boca ran over to her son.  
  
"Follow me, we have to get out of here." Skinner said. Boca looked at his family one last time then nodded. He and Skinner helped Tom to his feet and dragged him along, Mrs. Boca and her son behind them.  
  
They stumbled out of the base and into a snowstorm. Mrs. Boca hugged her son tightly and followed the three men into the storm. They fought there way up the hill, the snow whipping into their eyes. As they neared the top of the hill Mrs. Boca fell to her knees, unable to go any further. By this time a tiny layer of snow had fallen on Skinner, allowing everyone to see him.  
  
"Stay here with Sawyer, you wife and child. I'm going to see if who I'm waiting for has turned up yet." Skinner said, gently placing Tom on the ground. He began to run up the hill, cursing the slowness of the League.   
  
He had planned to simply wait in the base until they attacked, but Tom had made that impossible. There was no way he was going to leave the agent in the hands of M for another minute.   
  
Skinner neared a cave. At the entrance stood Allen Quatermain and Mina Hawker. Skinner grinned with delight. He crept up behind Mina and pinched her behind. Mina let out a squeak of protest.  
  
"Been waiting to do that all week." Skinner said. Allen didn't have any time for Skinner's fun and games.  
  
"Where's Sawyer?" Allen asked.   
  
"Follow me. But..." Skinner stopped, placing a hand on Allen chest. "Be warned. He's not in a good way."  
  
~~~  
  
Tom lay covered in blankets, in a restless slumber. Boca and Jekyll were standing a little way away, talking in animated whispers. Finally Jekyll walked over to where Allen was standing by the cave entrance.  
  
"Tom needs rest. There is nothing I can do for him." Jekyll said. Allen didn't turn from the cave entrance.  
  
"Now do you believe that Sawyer isn't on M's side?" Allen asked. Jekyll flushed a bright red and turned away.  
  
"He needs at least twelve hours of sleep. I wouldn't recommend leaving him though... or moving him any more." Dr. Jekyll said over his shoulder.  
  
"So we wait." Allen replied. Boca gave Allen Quartermain a look of horror.  
  
"What if M realizes he's gone?" Boca asked.  
  
"I'll go and have a little scout round." Skinner said, darting out of the cave, glad to be away from the tensions of the League.  
  
~~~  
  
It had taken Dorian over a hour but he had finally managed to reach the sword and pull it out. He sank to the floor, giggling to himself.  
  
One of M's soilders entered the room, carrying a painting wrapped in brown paper. Silently the man placed the canvis by Dorian's bed.  
  
"Your painting." Then bowed stiffly to him before walking back out of the room.  
  
Dorian found the whole episode extremely funny.  
  
~~~  
  
Skinner managed to get back into M's base without any real difficultly. He slipped past guard after guard before reaching M's main rooms.  
  
The evil mastermind was inside, staring at the corpse of Robes with a detached interest. One of his men - Lee - stood by his side.  
  
"Shall I send men out Sir?" he asked. M shook his head.  
  
"Double the guard on all exits and any where we have food. Let's starve the dog out. I'll wait for him to come back here, after all he is only an animal." M said. Lee saluted and turned to follow out his orders.  
  
"Oh and Lee. Don't shoot to kill."  
  
"Sir?" Lee asked in surprise.  
  
"He's no good to me dead." M said, fingering the chains.   
  
~~~  
  
Night had fallen. In the cave where the League were, everyone slept. The Boca family had been taken to the Nautilus by one of Nemo's sailors.   
  
The only person awake was Quartermain who was standing guard. His gaze kept returning to Tom Sawyer who was tossing and turning in his sleep. Dr. Jekyll had said later that this night would determine if Tom could survive what had been done to him, both mentally and physically.  
  
"Hold on boy." Allen said. He would not fail this young man who looked so much like his son.   
  
No matter the cost he would protect Tom Sawyer, to make it up to both his dead son and also Tom himself.  
  
But Allen Quatermain couldn't help Tom in this. No one could help Tom but Tom himself.  
  
TBC...  
  
There you have it, only ONE MORE part left. Yes, that's right, just one part left. Now that you have read please leave a review on your way out.  
  
~Sethoz 


	8. Moriarty's End

Disclaimer: *Sniff* This is it. The very last part to Black Pawn, White Pawn.  
  
I don't own LXG, Tom Sawyer, Allan Quatermain, Mina Hawker, Skinner, Captain Nemo, Dorian Gray, Dr. Jekyll, Mr. Hyde, M or anything else used in the fic. Huckleberry Finn is again used in this chapter, also there are a few mentions about 'The Picture of Dorian Gray', By Oscar Wilde.   
  
Merry Christmas!  
  
Clez:- Okay, so I'm a day or so later than I said I would be. Glad you liked the last part, I hope this one doesn't disappoint.  
  
Fayra:- Ask and thy shall receive. Included in this part is a scene between Tom and Allen and also the story about what Tom was seeing in the last part.  
  
Beguile:- Thanks so much! I loved writing it.  
  
Nikki:- Read on and find out...  
  
Capt.Cow:- If you like this one, try my other long LXG fic, 'The Bodyguard.' Yes, that was me and my shameless advertising. Hope this part is long enough for you.  
  
Roz:- Darn. I can't seem to get that brake=break thing worked out.   
  
RogueCajun:- Ah, stop it, you say the nicest things.   
  
LotRseer3350:- Sorry. I do have other LXG fics though... Hope this finale is grand enough for you.  
  
Angel32:- I know, I couldn't believe I was down to the last part already. And, of course, poor Allen.   
  
Tonianne:- Is this soon enough?  
  
Black Pawn, White Pawn.  
  
~~~  
  
Part 7:- Moriarty's End.  
  
~~~  
  
'I, Allan Quatrain, of Durban, Natal, Gentleman, make oath and say-- That's how I headed my deposition before the magistrate about poor Khiva's and Ventvogel's sad deaths; but somehow it doesn't seem quite the right way to begin a book. And, besides, am I a gentleman? What is a gentleman?'  
  
~King Solomon's Mines. Chapter 1.  
~ By H. Rider Haggard  
  
Huckleberry Finn stood by the hospital bed, his face a few inches away Tom Sawyer's face.  
  
"What the hell were you thinking!" Huck yelled, glaring at Tom. "No, wait, my fault, you don't think do you." His angry eyes burned into Tom's ashamed ones. Tom looked away, fingering his empty holsters, as guns were not allowed in hospitals.  
  
"You could have killed her!" Roared Huck, raising his fist to make real his anger and to threaten his friend. Tom numbly shook his head.  
  
"No..." he whispered, his gaze straying to the bed where Becky Thatcher lay, asleep. Her face was white and her arm banged, a stark reminder of what had happened to her. The Fantom had come after the two American Agents and because of Tom's lack of speed Becky had been hit in the arm by a bullet intended for Tom. She shouldn't have been there in the first place. The only reason she had been there was that Tom had asked her to come out to dinner with them.   
  
Becky had been standing there, all ready for the meal with her two favorite males... then the bullet had happened.  
  
"Yes." Snapped Huck. "Just... just get out before she wakes up." Tom let tears fall from his eyes but didn't say anything. As if in a daze he turned and walked out of the room. A little way down the corridor he stopped and slid down the wall, his eyes blank and unseeing.  
  
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..." he said to the empty hall.   
  
~~~  
  
Tom woke with a scream tearing itself from him. He gasped, tears running down his face. Inwardly Tom cursed his lack of control over his tears. That was the second time he had relived that memories. The two agents had made up a day or two later but Tom was still haunted by the fact that one of his last days with his best friend had been due to an augment. And then there was Becky.  
  
She hadn't wanted Tom to go chasing off after the Fantom and maybe she had been right. Tom could feel himself sinking deeper and deeper into depression and there seemed nothing he could do to stop that.  
  
"Sawyer? You awake Lad?" Allen whispered, not wanting to wake the rest of the League. In truth, it seemed un-likely that he could, as none of them had woken up at Tom Sawyer's scream, weak as it had been.  
  
"Q-Quartermain?" Tom said in disbelief. Had the whole thing with M been simply a dream? As if to mock that wonderful thought, Tom could feel the dull pain from his rib lurking just below the surface. Tom closed his eyes, blinking back tears and turned his head from Allen Quartermain, not waiting to see the pity that had to be on Allen's face. He didn't think he could bear it - couldn't bear the thought of anyone seeing him like this, a broken form of what he used to be.  
  
"What has he done to you lad..." Allen said, reaching out to stroke Tom's hair. Even though he was facing away from the hand, Tom seemed to sense it and flinched slightly as the hand came closer. Quartermain froze, then slowly, deliberately, continued to move his hand closer.   
  
Tom stiffened but didn't say anything. The hand came closer and closer...  
  
"Don't." Tom said suddenly, his eyes still closed. Allen placed his hand on Tom's head.  
  
"Easy lad." Allen said softly.  
  
"Did you get him?" Tom asked. There was no need to say who Tom was talking about, Allen Quartermain knew only too well.  
  
"The hunt begins in the morning." Allen Quartermain said, moving back to the fire, leaving Tom in peace in his corner. When Allen had placed his hand on Tom's head he had been relived to find out that the young man's temperature had gone down.  
  
"I'm coming as well." Tom said from his little cocoon of blankets. Allen shook his head and turned his face back to the fire, the light reflecting in his eyes. Tom pushed himself upwards.  
  
"I have to come, I have to do this." Tom said. Allen didn't turn his head from the fire.  
  
"You are staying in this cave, until this battle is over."  
  
"Bu-" Tom started.  
  
"We're not going to risk loosing you again, boy. Now get some sleep."   
  
~~~  
  
It was snowing lightly in the morning. Tom stood by the cave entrance, scowling. His temperature had returned to normal and apart from a mass of bruises and a rib that hadn't fully healed, Tom was physically back to normal. Even so none of the League had sided with him and let him come back to the base with them. They moved down the hill, so far away that they looked like little black dots.  
  
"Mr. Sawyer, you must come back inside and rest." The sailor said, coming to stand next to Tom. The Agent nodded and moved back inside. The League had left Tom in the hands of a minder, to keep an eye on him.  
  
Tom Sawyer sat down in his blankets and carefully slipped his pistols under his coat. He lay down in the blankets and tried to sleep. His minder watched him with one eye. After a while it became apparent that Tom was having difficulty breathing. He began to thrash around in the blankets, his mouth open in a vain attempt to get enough oxygen in.  
  
"Mr. Sawyer!" The sailor said in a panic. He dithered about the cave, unsure what to do until a thought hit him. Tom Sawyer needed a doctor, but Dr. Jekyll was at the base. There was, however, still Dr. Boca, on board the Nautilus. At that moment the thrashing slowed and Tom simply lay there, breathing more easily now.   
  
Even so, the sailor couldn't take any chances.  
  
"I will return soon Mr. Sawyer." he promised him before running out into the snow. For a minute there was no sound except for Tom's labored breathing. Then Tom jumped up, grabbing his pistols and heading for the exit. He had nearly reached the snow outside when a flash of metal caught his eye. He stopped and bent down, unwrapping a package. There lay his own rifle. Tom quickly opened it, checking the bullets before snapping it shut and running out of the cave into the snow.  
  
~~~  
  
Inside the base, Allen Quartermain had run into trouble. The trouble being one of M's soldiers, armed with a gun that was pointed right at Allen's chest. There was a sudden, loud shot which took Allen by surprise. There appeared to be a frozen look of smugness on the soldiers face. As Allen stood there, expecting to feel the pain that came with being shot the other man topped forward.   
  
Standing behind him was Tom Sawyer, his rifle raised.  
  
"Eyes open boy..." Tom said with a grin. "Can't protect you all the time." Allen was not amused.  
  
"Go back to the cave and wait." he snapped.  
  
"No." Tom said with a shrug. "You can't stop me." he added. Allen ran his hand over his face and sighed, before continuing down the corridor, Tom running beside him.  
  
"Skinner said take a left at the pillar" Allen shouted at the two ran. Tom looked at the dozens of pillars they were passing.  
  
"Oh great! Which one?"  
  
~~~   
  
Dorian entered his room, a vague smile on his face. He had left to talk to M and was now feeling much better. He picked up his hat and brushed it lightly. There was a sound behind him and he turned, still slightly sluggish after his encounter with Tom Sawyer.  
  
There stood Mina, dressed in her fighting clothes, a snarl on her face.   
  
"Hello Lover." She said.  
  
~~~   
  
Allen Quartermain and Tom Sawyer ran though the halls after M, each intent on their pray. Which was why Tom didn't hear the invisible man until they crashed into each other. He bit back a gasp of pain as his rib was jolted.  
  
"Skinner?" Tom said in disbelief. He looked up the corridor to where Allen stood. "It's okay, it's Skinner." He fought to remove his jacket as Allen continued up the corridor after M.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Tom asked.  
  
"What makes you think I'm Skinner? My name is Sanderson Reed." The invisible man said before launching into an attack on Sawyer. Tom jumped out of the way of the knife that gleamed, forcing his injured body to respond to his every move.  
  
A few rooms down, Dorian and Mina were still fighting. The two immortals slashed at each other, their wounds healing as soon as they had been made.  
  
It might have been the drugs or simply the wish to end this fight. What ever it was, some inner force urged Dorian to stab Mina through the chest. He watched as her eyes widened, as she stared at him in disbelief and betrayal. Then she fell backwards, onto the bed.   
  
Dorian pulled his sword from her body, wiping it clean on the bedspread. He was so intent on this that he didn't see Mina sit up, the wound healing. The first thing he was aware of was the sword being ripped out of his grasp and inserted into his own chest. Mina pushed him towards the wall, unknowing of the feeling of De'ja vu Gray was currently feeling.  
  
"You're painting." Mina said stepping towards the canvas. Dorian didn't even have time to close his eyes before the wrapping was pulled off.  
  
What lay under it was indeed a picture of Dorian Gray - but not a Dorian anyone would know to be the man himself. Dorian began to scream as he stared at the painting, his skin flecking off. All of a sudden he wasn't in that room anymore, staring at what once had been a perfect picture of a perfect beauty.  
  
He was sitting in a long forgotten studio, laughing as a man - Basil he was called - tried to paint him. Dorian smiled as Basil frowned, vexed for some reason.  
  
A bubbling feeling welled up inside of him, a long forgotten feeling - the feeling of innocence. Then the past faded and he was back in the room with Mina.  
  
Then he was simply gone.  
  
~~~   
  
"He's too far!" Sawyer exclaimed in anger, watching the retreating form of Moriarty. Allan weakly shook his head.  
  
"No, you'll ready boy. You can do it. Just don't let your anger guide you, otherwise it will betray you." Tom nodded and lifted the gun, feeling the shape of it in his arms. He curled his finger around the trigger.  
  
"Take your time, you have all the time in the world." Allan said from behind him. He held the gun steady, despite the bruises on his hands and arms. He tried to ignore them and the rage that was bubbling in his mind at the thought of the monster who had taken pleasure in hurting him. He focused instead on the words Allen had told him.  
  
//Nearly... nearly... nearly... now!\\ he thought. His finger responded to his brain and it squeezed the trigger.  
  
The bullet flew though the air, steady and hit it's target. But not it's intended target. Due to his injuries Tom's aim had been off. The bullet embedded itself in Moriarty's leg, making him fall to the ground in pain, the box he was holding flying out of his hands and into the icy water. Tom spun round to face Allen.  
  
"I hit him!" he said proudly, then stopped.   
  
"Make this century yours boy... As I made this last one mine." With those words, Allan Quartermain, the greatest explorer in the word, slowly stopped breathing, the stab he had taken to save Tom proving fatal. Tom bowed his head, snow softly falling on him. Then he raised his head again, the fire of revenge burning in him.   
  
Huckleberry had died because of Moriarty...  
  
Allen had died because of Moriarty...  
  
It was now up to Tom to make sure that no-one else died because of Moriarty. He routed through the junk in the room, searching for something, anything he could use as a rope to go after M. He knew that every second meant that M had a better chance of escaping, something Tom could not allow.  
  
Tom gave a cry of joy as he found a rope, tying the end of it into a loop and wrapping the loop around a jutting stone. Then Tom swung the rope out into the snow before following it, carefully climbing down.  
  
Moriarty scrambled in the snow, his fingers sliding over it, unable to get any grip. Out of the corner of his eye he saw two boots moved towards him, crunching the snow underfoot. The boots stopped by his face and Moriarty looked upwards - right into the grim face of Agent Tom Sawyer.  
  
"Shoot me then." Moriarty rasped. Tom raised his rifle and took aim, shaking slightly. For a while the two stared at each other, each waiting for the other man to make the first move. Moriarty suppressed a smile. Maybe this would work to his advantage after all. All he had to do was throw Sawyer off balance enough to take the gun. Then Moriarty could escape the League and maybe, just maybe if he was feeling kind he would spare the worthless life of the American. Then again, maybe not.  
  
"What are you waiting for? It's what I would do in your place." Moriarty said. Tom spun his rifle around and used the butt end to swing it like a baseball bat, hitting Moriarty under the chin and sending him flying.  
  
"That's the difference between you and me. I am not an animal." Tom said coldly.   
  
Back at the base Mina charged into the room where Allen's body lay. She skidded to a halt then approached the still body, an expression of sorrow on her face.   
  
Something compelled her to turn to the crack in the wall and look out into the snow.  
  
Tom turned away from Moriarty, as if the very sight of the man disgusted him.   
  
"You will stand trial for everything you have done. May you rot in jail." Tom said. Moriarty snarled and finally managed to push himself upright.  
  
"Tom!" Mina yelled, running towards the two, her bats converging around her. "Behind you!" Tom back spun round to face Moriarty. It was that which saved him as Moriarty let out a scream and tried to stab at him with a knife from his pocket.   
  
The two fought in the snow, the knife held high in the air. With a yell Tom kicked Moriarty, hard, in the chest. The force sent Moriarty backwards, until he was only a step away from the icy water. For a instant Moriarty tittered on the edge, then regained his balance. He sent Tom a cold smile before slowly stepping forward.  
  
The ice under his foot made a low groaning noise. Tom's eyes widened in shock as the ice simply gave way, right under Moriarty's feet. With a scream, the Professor fell into the water, his hands still clutching towards Tom. Then the hands slowly sank.  
  
Mina reached the American and silently placed a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"He died saving me." Tom said dully. There was no need to say who 'he' was, Mina had seen the body.   
  
"Is Skinner okay?" Tom asked.   
  
"Dr. Jekyll has him on board the Nautilus. I have no doubt that he will recover from the burns." Mina said. Tom shrugged and turned away from the pond like water Moriarty had fallen into.  
  
Suddenly the waters parted and Moriarty erupted from the icy, his mouth open in a scream, his fingers curled into talons. His eyes were wide and staring... and also, Tom noticed completely blank.  
  
He had been frozen solid, still in his death throws. As the female Vampire and the male Agent watched, the crime lord slowly sunk under the waters, the quiet liquid closing over his body.  
  
And there Moriarty will lie - until the waters recede and there is only a skeleton left with no tangible clue as to his identity.  
  
~~~   
  
Africa...  
  
Tom Sawyer left the grave, the African sun shining down on the back of his neck. He started to jog and soon caught up with Mina Hawker. For a short time the two simply walked along, the scorching sun still shining, clouds gathering behind it.   
  
"So this is how the story ends." Tom said dully. "The first adventure of the League and it ends in death."  
  
"It shouldn't end in death. It doesn't." Mina said primly, stopping her walk. Tom stopped too and stared at her though his long hair, his clear blue orbs asking a question.  
  
"What does it end in then?" he answered. Mina hesitated and looked back at the grave of Allen Quartermain, noting the clouds over it. It seemed as if Africa itself was in mourning. Then she looked back at Tom.  
  
"In Hope." She said simply, then walked on. Tom watched her go, then he too turned back to look at the grave.  
  
"In Hope?" he said, a lopsided grin spreading to his face. "I think I can manage that."  
  
~The End.~  
  
There you have it, the very last part, all done and dusted. Now, please, have a very, very Merry Christmas and if you are reading this after the 25th, then just have a very good day.  
  
Please, please leave a review.  
  
~Sethoz 


End file.
